iFind My Father
by wannabe1980
Summary: When Mrs. Benson starts acting weird even for her, Freddie is determined to get to the bottom of it. With Carly's help, he faces his father, but what does he want? Will they reconcile? Will Freddie and Carly find love along the way?
1. Prologue

**Summary: When Mrs. Benson starts behaving strangely (even for her), Freddie is determined to get to the bottom of it and goes in search of his father. With Carly's help, he faces his father, but what does the man want after all these years? Will Freddie reconcile with his father? Will Freddie and Carly find love along the way?**

**I don't own iCarly.**

iFind My Father

Prologue

Freddie's POV

I'm shivering as the cold wind cuts through me like a knife. It's unseasonably warm for February in Seattle, but it's still too cold to be standing outside in the rain. My heavy black wool coat is brand new, and it's top of the line, but it still can't keep out the cold. I'm not sure if I'm freezing because of the weather or because of the ice in my heart. It's probably a combination of the two.

The rain is soaking through my hair. I feel it running in rivulets over my scalp. I can see the droplets falling from the ends of my hair as it hangs in my eyes. I could sweep the soggy locks off my forehead, but right now I like being able to hide.

I look down at my feet. I have sunk so deep into the mud that it is starting to cover the tops of my shoes. The hem of my pants is caked with mud as well. My mother would be hysterical to see how I've ruined these brand new expensive items if she were here, but she's not. She won't have to worry about cleaning or replacing my clothing this time. She'll never even know.

Why am I standing here ankle deep in mud letting the wind and rain ravage me? I'm here to say goodbye to the woman who has loved me and stood by me my whole life. Tears blur my vision as I gaze into the open grave. I see the gray casket lid dully reflecting the cloudy sky, and I turn my eyes up toward the heavens. Is she up there looking down on me? Does she know how much I loved her and how I will miss her? I wish I had told her more often how much I appreciated her—how much she meant to me. Now I'll never get the chance.

The rain falls like tears from the sky. I guess the angels are crying with me. Their tears hit my face and mingle with my own, but mine leave scalding trails of anger and regret. I see sadness in the faces of the mourners surrounding me, but their pain can be nothing compared to mine. They didn't know her or love her like I did. She wasn't their world. She was mine. She was my world, and I was hers. Now she's gone, and I'm alone. At the ripe old age of twenty-two, I'm completely alone in the world.

"Ashes to ashes," I hear the priest say in a practiced tone, "dust to dust." A shadow passes over me. I glance up to see a swatch of black vinyl over my head. I turn to look at the person standing beside me. Sympathy is etched on her lovely features. I see the remnants of tears on her own cheeks. Her tiny hand finds mine and squeezes gently as she steps a little closer to me and holds the umbrella over us both. I find a small measure of comfort in her support.

As the priest utters the last few words of his speech, I toss the white roses I've been holding into the grave. I reach down and pick up a handful of dirt and release it over her coffin. I look at the polished granite tombstone and wish I could have come up with something better. She deserves so much more than the few words I had carved into the stone.

"Here lies Marisa Benson. The best mother a son could ever have."

The soft hand in mine gives another squeeze. "Let's get you home," she says softly as she turns me toward the line of cars. I glance back over my shoulder to say one final goodbye to my mother as I follow Carly to the waiting limo.

"_I'm going to find the man responsible for this,"_ I vow to myself, _"and I'm going to make him pay."_


	2. First Signs of Trouble

**AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story so far! This one is going to be a bit darker than iOwe You My Life, but I hope you will enjoy it. This is a Creddie fic, but that's not the only theme. Just in case you're wondering, the storyline is completely separate from my last story. **

**FYI: The next few chapters will be written in the past tense. Right now, we're exploring the past. We came into the story on the day of Marisa's funeral, which is the present, so to speak. When we reach that point in the storyline, the writing will switch back to present tense. **

**Now, on with the story! :)  
**

iFind My Father

Chapter 1 The First Signs of Trouble

Freddie's POV

I was in the tenth grade. I sat on the steps in front of Ridgeway waiting for my mom to come pick me up. She was running late, which wasn't like her. As I waited, my mind wandered back over the past few months.

It had been a fairly normal year as far as I knew. My mother had calmed down after the taco truck incident. She had even forgiven Carly for "trying to kill her son" as she put it. She had kept a close eye on me for a while, but once my bones were all mended, she had gradually relaxed. I had started hanging out with Carly and Sam again, and we had gotten back to doing iCarly as usual. We had even finished the bunny-suit-tooth-brushing dare—sans taco trucks.

I spent as much time with Carly as possible in those months following the accident. I was hoping she would make a move or at least give me a sign that she still wanted to be my girlfriend. I had regretted pushing her away as soon as the elevator door closed that day. I could still feel the warmth of her lips on my cheek as I returned to my apartment, but a part of me had known I had blown my only chance with her. Still, months later, I was holding onto hope.

She didn't give me any signs, though. She went back to being "just friends" like nothing had ever happened. At first, I figured she was doing a really good job of hiding her feelings. I saw the telltale signs of that—the way I occasionally caught her watching me when she thought I wasn't looking, the way she held on just a moment longer than necessary when we hugged. I was, after all, an expert in the field of Swallow-your-feelings-and-pretend-to-be-just-friends-with-the-person-you-love-ology.

After a while, though, I could tell she wasn't pretending anymore. The hero thing had worn off, and she really wasn't in love with the same old Freddie. I was so hurt and disappointed that I wanted to cry. I wanted to fall at her feet and beg her to love me. I wished that I could recapture the hero magic so she would at least _think_ she loved me again. Thinking Carly _might_ be in love with me was way better than _knowing_ she wasn't. My heart ached every time I looked at her.

I glanced at my Pearphone to check the time. It was after five o'clock. The AV club meeting had ended an hour ago. Where was my mom? I dialed her number and listened impatiently as it rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Her voicemail greeting began to play, and I heaved an exasperated sigh. "Mom, it's me," I said after the tone. "It's a little after five, and I'm still waiting for you at school. Please call me back and let me know where you are. Love you. Bye." I pressed the end button and shifted uncomfortably on the cold concrete step. My tailbone was starting to hurt.

Fifteen minutes later, I was pacing in front of the steps. My butt hurt too bad to keep sitting. I was just glad it wasn't raining. There was still no sign of my mother, and I hadn't heard back from her. The sun was sinking fast, and the night air was starting to take on a chill. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. "Mom, it's me again," I said, my weariness coming through in my voice. "I'm going to call Spencer to come pick me up. Please call me when you get this." I was really starting to get worried. Mom had never done anything like this before.

Spencer didn't answer his phone. I hung up without leaving a message. I dialed another number I knew by heart and held my breath as it rang, hoping for an answer. "Hello," came the voice I loved so much.

"Carly," I said, relieved that she answered. "It's Freddie."

"Hey, Freddie. What's up?"

"Listen, I'm still at school, and I can't reach my mom. Do you think Spencer could come pick me up?"

"He went out with Socko," she said. "They're night fishing again. His phone doesn't get reception out there." I moaned as she said this. She went on, "Just hang on. I'll get the scooter and come get you."

I wasn't sure how I was going to balance on the back of that tiny scooter, but it beat sitting on those steps any longer. "Thanks Carly," I said, relief evident in my voice.

After another fifteen minutes of pacing, I saw a single round headlight approaching. I heard the high-pitched buzz of the scooter's engine as she drew near. I met her at the curb and couldn't help but smile at how cute she was in her pale pink motorcycle helmet and goggles.

"Hey," she smiled at me as she put the kickstand down. I watched her dismount, her long slender leg swinging gracefully over the scooter. She retrieved another helmet from the back of the scooter and offered it to me. Thankfully, it wasn't pink. She grinned at me as I fumbled with the tiny buckle on the chin strap. "Here," she said softly, reaching up and swatting my hands away from the strap. "Let me."

I leaned down slightly as she fastened the helmet. Her face was just a few inches from mine. I gazed down at her, drinking in the sight of her under the streetlight. Shadows played across the planes of her face, throwing her profile into high relief. The stark contrast of darkness and light on her features accentuated her beauty in a way I couldn't describe. No artist, living or dead, could have painted a more beautiful portrait. It was a surreal moment. Traffic hummed softly in the distance like the urban equivalent of crickets chirping. She looked up at me, laughter lighting her eyes. The corners of her full, sensual lips turned up, and I felt drawn to them like a magnet.

"There you go," she said, shaking me out of my trance. I blinked slowly as she dropped her hands. What was I thinking? I almost kissed her! She hadn't given me any indication that she would want that—not since that rainy afternoon in the studio. I straightened and smiled down at her, trying to cover my embarrassment.

She stepped away from me and turned back toward the softly idling scooter. "I was thinking," she said over her shoulder, "maybe I should ride on the back. You've gotten so big lately…I think it would be easier if you drive. Is that okay?" Her voice sounded shaky, but I couldn't figure out why. Had she sensed that I was about to kiss her? Had it upset her that badly? The thought of kissing me must have been really repulsive to her if it made her so uncomfortable she couldn't face me.

"Yeah," I mumbled, dejected, "works for me." I took my seat on the scooter and motioned for her to get on behind me.

I felt her hands gripping my shoulders as she swung her leg over the scooter and settled into the seat. Then I felt her warm body pressing against my back as her arms went around my waist and her hands clasped over my stomach. I sucked in an unsteady breath. That innocent contact was enough to get my blood racing. I called up a mental image of Sam's mom in her bikini to calm myself down. Yep, that worked.

The cool wind on my face felt great as we headed toward home. My mind started to wander back to my mother, but those thoughts flew out of my head as I felt Carly's delicate fingertips brushing my abdomen. She was tracing lazy circles across my stomach just above my waistband. Even the image of Sam's mom couldn't still my blood this time.

Then Carly's fingers found the contours of my abs. I had been working out a lot since I got out of those casts, and the results were starting to show. I felt Carly exploring the newly defined muscles, and I was grateful for the cool wind to keep me from overheating. _"What is she doing to me?"_ my mind raced. _"She's driving me crazy!"_

I slowed to a stop in the parking lot at Bushwell and shut off the engine. I made no move to dismount, and neither did she. Her hands kept roaming my body. I didn't know what she meant by touching me this way. Was she even aware of what she was doing? I couldn't stand not knowing. I had to find out.

"Carly?" I whispered, my voice strained.

"Hmm?" she breathed, the movement of her fingers unwavering.

"Wh-what…wh-what are you doing?" I choked out.

"Huh?" she said, a faraway quality to her voice.

I placed my hands over hers and stroked her knuckles with my thumbs. "What are you doing?" I asked again, a little more confident this time. My flickering hope grew into an actual flame.

She gasped and pulled away from me, throwing a bucket of wet sand on my little hopeful fire. "Oh, uh…s-sorry," she stammered as she jumped off the scooter. "I-I guess my mind was wandering. I d-didn't m-mean to…I'm sorry!" She turned and hurried away from me.

Another fragment of my heart broke off and crumbled as I watched her retreating form. I desperately wanted to chase after her, but I couldn't take any more rejection just then. I sighed heavily as I got off the scooter and removed the helmet. I followed her into the building at a distance. She took the elevator, so I took the stairs.

I finally reached the eighth floor, my legs burning with the exertion of running up eight flights of stairs. I reached my front door and paused to catch my breath. Carly was nowhere in sight. I fished my key out of my pocket and unlocked my door. With a forlorn glance back over my shoulder at the Shays' door, I pushed my own open.

I turned in surprise when the door came to an abrupt halt. I saw the gold chain spanning the three-inch gap between the door and the frame, but it took a moment for it to sink in. The chain was latched from the inside, which meant my mother was in there somewhere. "Mom?" I called out. "Unlock the door." No answer. "Mom?" I called again, but there was only silence inside. My heart started to pound. "Mom? Where are you?" Still nothing, and I hit full-on panic mode. "MOM!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I shook the door as hard as I could, trying to force it open. The chain rattled but would not break. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. My mother was in there—maybe needing help—and I couldn't get to her! "MOM!" I screamed again.

The door behind me flew open, and Carly's voice reached my ears. "Freddie!" she shouted. "What's wrong?"

"My mom's in there," I panted, starting to hyperventilate. "The chain's latched, and she's not answering. I can't get in!"

Carly didn't hesitate. "Hang on," she said as she turned and disappeared into her apartment. She came back out a moment later carrying a big pair of bolt cutters. Of course, Spencer would have things like that. She handed them to me. I cut the chain and ran into the apartment, dropping the tool on the floor as I ran through the house in search of my mother.

I found her in her bedroom, lying on her stomach across her bed. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but something was off. I approached and placed my hand on her shoulder. I gave her a gentle shake. "Mom, wake up!" I said loudly. She didn't respond. I shook her harder and spoke louder, but the results were the same. _"Oh, God, no!"_ I silently prayed. _"Please, no!"_ Bile rose in my throat as I realized she wasn't breathing. I gingerly touched my fingers to her pulse point. I released a breath I hadn't known I held as I felt her weak pulse. It was faint, but it was there. I heard Carly enter the room behind me.

"Carly, call 911!" I said.

"Freddie, what's…"

"JUST CALL THEM!" I shouted.

Carly pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed. As she spoke to the dispatcher, I sat on the floor beside my mother's bed clutching her hand in mine. "Mom, please be okay!" I begged. I could hear my voice breaking and felt the tears coming. _"Keep it together, Benson!"_ I told myself.

"Is she breathing?" Carly asked. I shook my head. Carly stepped to the first aid kit on the wall and pulled out a plastic package. She handed it to me, and I started at it blankly for a moment. It was a CPR kit. I felt frozen. I couldn't move.

"Freddie!" she shouted. "The ambulance is coming, but we have to do CPR until they get here. GET UP!"

I sprang to my feet. Carly put the dispatcher on speaker and placed her phone on the nightstand. "We have to get her to the floor and on her back."

Together, Carly and I moved my mother to the floor and began CPR. Carly placed the mask from the kit over my mother's nose and mouth and gave her breaths. She counted for me as I did chest compressions. After several cycles, my mother finally started breathing on her own. We followed the dispatcher's instructions and rolled her to her side. Then we waited.

It seemed like an eternity before the paramedics arrived. They took over the effort to revive my mother. She was breathing but still unconscious. They asked us if we knew what happened then began searching the room for clues. One of them found a bottle of sleeping pills on the nightstand. Neither Carly nor I had noticed it there. The prescription had just been filled that morning, but the bottle was half empty.

"We have to get her to the ER right away," he said. "Her stomach will have to be pumped. You two are her children?"

"I am," I said weakly. "She's my friend," I said, gesturing toward Carly.

"Well, son, you can ride in the ambulance," he said, nodding at me. "Miss, you'll have to find your own way."

Carly hugged me fiercely as the paramedics started pushing my mother out of the room. "I'll take the scooter," she whispered in my ear. "I'll be right there."

I followed the paramedics to the waiting ambulance and took a seat in the back beside my mother. I watched as he pushed needles into her skin and ran tubing from bags of fluid to her arms. He attached various monitors to her skin and placed an oxygen mask over her face.

"You and your friend did good, son" he said as he worked. "If you hadn't done CPR, she probably wouldn't have made it until we got there." He looked directly into my eyes. "But she's not out of the woods yet. She still has a lot of those pills in her system. We'll pump her stomach and get as much out as we can. We'll also give her something to counteract the effects of the drug, but…" he took a deep breath and went on, "depending on how many she took, and how long ago, it may still be too late."

I blinked back tears and nodded, unable to find my voice. He continued in a gentler tone, "We'll do all we can for her, son. I promise you that. I just want you to be prepared. Your mother's attempt may still be successful."

I sat there processing what he had just said to me. _"My mother's attempt?"_ I thought angrily. _"What is he saying? She would never do anything like that! Would she?"_ I glanced at her unconscious face. _"No! She loves me too much. She wouldn't do that to me! But…the pills…she took half a bottle of prescription sleeping pills."_ My heart broke in a way I had never dreamed possible as I finally admitted to myself what my mother had done. How could she? How could she try to leave me like that? Why? I felt hot, angry tears slide down my face as we raced toward the hospital. I prayed that I had found her in time.


	3. Surviving the Storm

iFind My Father

Chapter 2 Surviving the Storm

I sat in a cold, hard chair in a cold, hard room waiting to find out whether I had been orphaned. Anger and sorrow waged war in my chest, and my heart was the broken, bloody casualty. I was surrounded by an aftermath of fear. What if my mom didn't make it? What would happen to me? Where would I go?

I sat there drowning in my torrent of emotions, my head in my hands. I stared at the gleaming white linoleum floor until my eyes burned. I screwed my eyes tightly shut and fought valiantly to hold back the sobs, but finally I broke. My tears fell to the floor with an audible splat that seemed to reverberate in the quiet room. My body convulsed as I sobbed silently, my agony so profound it stole my voice.

The sound of footsteps registered in the back of my mind, but I was too lost to respond. The footfalls sounded faster as they approached me then stopped abruptly in front of me. I sensed a figure kneeling in front of me then felt a pair of arms wrap around me, holding me tight.

"Oh, Freddie!" Carly's voice reached me like a ray of sunlight breaking through the dark, raging storm that had swallowed me. My pain found its voice as I buried my face in the crook of her neck, my cries muffled in her hair. She rocked me and stroked my hair, murmuring soothing sounds in my ear. I clung to her like a lifeline.

"Shh," she crooned, "it's okay, baby. It's gonna be okay." She pressed her lips to my temple for a moment then started to hum a soft melody in my ear. The sound of her voice calmed me, and I found strength in her embrace.

I looked up when I heard footsteps again. I straightened as I recognized the doctor who had been treating my mother. Carly rose from her position in front of me and took the chair by my side. She held my hand tightly in hers as the doctor approached.

"Fredward Benson?" he asked, his baritone bouncing off the walls. I nodded mutely. "Your mother is going to be all right." I heaved a sigh of relief as he went on. "She had a close call, though. If you had been any later finding her, she probably wouldn't have made it. We're going to keep her overnight for observation. She's pretty groggy, but she's awake now if you'd like to see her. Just don't stay too long."

I pulled myself to my feet. Carly stood beside me, still holding my hand. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked softly.

"No," I sighed. "I need to talk to her alone."

Carly nodded, understanding on her face. "I'll wait for you out here."

I pulled back the blue curtain surrounding my mother's bed and hesitantly stepped to her side. "Mom?" I asked in a shaky voice.

Her eyes fluttered open and she slowly turned her head to face me. She had a glassy, faraway look in her eyes. "Freddie," she mumbled slowly. Her eyes started to drift closed again.

I placed my hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. "Mom!" I said urgently. "Talk to me!" When her eyes were once again focused on my face, I asked the question that had been burning my brain since the ambulance. "Why?" I could hear the heartbreak in my voice. "Why would you do something like this? How could you try to leave me like that?"

She just stared at me for a long moment. I didn't think she was going to answer me, but then she pulled in a slow, deep breath. "I didn't mean to," she whispered.

I wasn't sure I had heard her right. "What?"

"I didn't mean to take so many," she said, offering me a weak smile. I could feel my brows rise to my hairline. She was lying to me!

"Mom!" I said, exasperated. "Don't lie to me! I'm not stupid."

"Of course not," she said, "but really, it was an accident. Things have just been so stressful at work lately, and I was so exhausted but too anxious to sleep. So I got the prescription, and…well…I really didn't mean to take that many. I was just so tired."

I wasn't buying it, but she went on anyway. "I'll be more careful from now on. I promise. Really, sweetheart, you don't need to worry about me."

Did I think I was hurt before? Had I felt a knife in my heart? Well, now I felt its twin between my shoulder blades! Not only had she hurt me by trying to leave me, but now she had betrayed me by lying to me about it! _"You don't just _accidentally_ take half a bottle of pills!"_ I thought angrily.

"Okay, Mom," I said, my voice flat. "They told me not to stay long. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow." I turned and left without a backward glance. I just couldn't face her at that moment.

I found Carly waiting for me right where I had left her. She smiled as I approached her. She stepped forward and pulled me into a gentle hug. "You didn't have to wait," I said as we stepped apart.

"You need a ride home, don't you?"

"Uhm, well, yeah," I nodded, "but I could have called a cab or something."

"Don't be silly," she said, taking my hand and leading me toward the exit. "I've got the scooter."

* * *

We stood outside my apartment door as I toyed with the keys in my hand, stalling for time. I really didn't want to go in there, especially not alone. Carly must have sensed my mood. "Hey," she said, taking my elbow and pulling me toward her apartment. "Want to watch a movie with me?"

"Sure," I smiled, relieved. How did she always know how to make me feel better? I followed her into her apartment and took a seat on the couch. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, suddenly weary, and listened as she rummaged around the living room. I felt her take a seat beside me, and I turned to look at her. She had a blanket in her arms and a remote in her hand. She scooted closer to me and threw the blanket over us then started the movie. She laid her head on my shoulder, and I rested my cheek on top of her head. I closed my eyes as the movie started, not really interested in watching it.

Carly's movement jarred me out of my light slumber. I blinked blearily at her. "Were you asleep?" she asked with a half smile.

"Almost," I answered with a sheepish grin. I glanced at the television and saw the end credits rolling.

She nodded, "I guess it is getting late."

I figured that was my cue to leave. "Yeah," I said, faking a yawn, "I guess I should get home." I made no move to go, though.

"Freddie?" she whispered softly. I raised my eyes to hers. "You don't have to go yet if you don't want to. Tomorrow's Saturday, so we don't have to be up early. We could watch another movie if you want."

"Thanks," I said warmly. "I really don't want to watch movies, though." Her face fell. "But I don't want to go, either," I added. "I just really don't want to be alone right now," I admitted reluctantly, "and I don't want to go back in that apartment, at least not by myself."

She placed her hand on mine. "Then stay here," she said softly, her eyes full of compassion. We talked late into the night. I shared with her all the thoughts and feelings I had been through since finding my mom unconscious. She listened with rapt attention, and her sympathy and support gave me comfort. She cried with me. She cried _for_ me. I felt closer to her than I ever had before, and for once, my desire for her didn't consume me. That evening, we connected on a much deeper level. We shared a bonding of hearts.

We eventually lay down together on the couch with her back against my chest. We snuggled together under the blanket as we drifted off to sleep. I felt calm and at peace with her, even on a night when I thought peace would have eluded me.

* * *

My mother came home from the hospital the next day. She acted like the same old mom, but I sensed it was all for show. She never would tell me the truth about what she had done that day. I tried to broach the subject many times, but she refused to discuss it at all. She always gave me the same answer: it was an accident and won't happen again. I finally grew too frustrated to keep asking and decided to let it go. She kept up her "normal" act, and I eventually started to believe it.

Then one afternoon, I passed her open doorway in the hall and overheard her on the phone. "No, Johnny," she hissed. "Just stay away!" She paused. "Yes, he got hurt, but he's fine now. It was an accident… I was _not_ being negligent!... He pushed his friend out of the way. That truck would have killed her if Freddie hadn't…. No! There's no need to bring the courts into this… I _am_ a fit mother! He hasn't been hurt before or since… I mean it, Johnny! Stay away from us, or else! … I still have that restraining order… No, not until he's twenty-one… I know it's usually eighteen, but it's different… If you do, I swear to God… We'll disappear again, and you'll _never_ find us this time!"

I stood pressed against the wall by her door, my heart pounding. Who was Johnny, and why did she sound so afraid of him? What did she mean by bringing the courts into this? Restraining order? What was going to happen when I reached twenty-one? I suddenly realized there was _a lot_ my mother wasn't telling me.


	4. A Stranger in My House

**AN: I apologize for the delay in updating. This story is proving difficult to write, and I don't want to force it. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you like this new chapter! Reviews are much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: "Hefty" is a registered trademark of Pactiv Corporation.**

iFind My Father

Chapter 3 A Stranger in My House

I felt sweat beading on my brow and trickling down my back. The graduation gown I wore was made of some mysterious fabric that felt suspiciously like plastic. There wasn't a breath of wind, and the late May weather was unforgiving of a guy wearing a Hefty bag. I squinted as I turned my eyes up to the sky. The sun was beating down, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky—in Seattle, of all places.

I fidgeted with the rolled-up paper in my hands. My name had been called early, and I had nothing to do but wait for them to work through the rest of the alphabet. I scanned the crowd. My mother was in the front row with a video camera in one hand and a still camera in the other. She had cheered like a one-woman pep squad when I crossed the stage. For that moment, she had looked like her old self—not the haggard shadow of my mother she had recently become. She had dropped weight. Her cheeks looked hollow, and she had dark circles under her eyes and silver streaks through her hair. I hadn't known it, but the past three years had been rough on her.

Two weeks before graduation, I came home early from an iCarly rehearsal to find my mother sitting at our kitchen table across from a man in a dark suit. He had his back to me, but I could tell he was massive. His dark brown hair brushed the collar of his jacket. I found myself wishing I could see his face. The noise from the television drowned out the sound of my entrance, and I approached the kitchen unnoticed. I ducked behind a support column and strained to hear their conversation over the sound of the Mexican Dessert channel.

"Mr. Edwards," my mother said with irritation in her voice, "I'm telling you he has people here in Seattle." I peeked around the column to watch the scene unfold.

"Mrs. Benson," the man replied with a drawn out sigh, "Marisa…may I call you Marisa?" My mother nodded tightly as the man went on. "I assure you my men are on this. You and Freddie have nothing to worry about."

"I've seen them," my mother answered. "I first noticed them six months ago. It was bad enough when I thought they were just following me, but last week I saw two of them outside Freddie's school. I absolutely will not tolerate anyone threatening my son."

"You don't even know what they want," he began.

"Of course I do!" she hissed. "I told you about the phone calls. That's been going on for three years now. He calls every few weeks and always wants the same thing. You know as well as I do that's what this is about. I don't know what he plans to do, but I guarantee you that's the reason I'm seeing his men everywhere." She placed her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. "My grandfather never wanted anything like this to happen. If he'd had any idea, he never would have…." The rest of her mumbled sentence was lost in enthusiastic commentary on flan and sopapillas.

The man rose from his seat and stepped around the table to kneel beside my mother, and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He was so tall that, even on his knees beside her, he looked her eye-to-eye. He was graying at the temples, and he had one silver streak in front where his hair parted. He reached one large hand up to cup her cheek, and she pulled away.

"Mr. Edwards," she said, her voice shaking.

"Hey," he said softly, his deep voice rumbling, "what's all this 'Mr. Edwards' business? Have we grown so far apart?" The look on his face was sorrowful.

"Gregory," she answered softly, smiling at him, "I'm sorry if I'm being rude. I just don't know what to do. I could barely handle the phone calls." She sighed heavily. "Did I tell you I've been seeing a psychiatrist?" My eyes widened. I had never known she was in therapy. For what?

"I've been seeing one every week since the divorce," she went on, "and I was doing great. Since the calls started, though, I've been going more often. I was barely coping. Now with the men…I'm so scared, Gregory. I know we haven't seen each other in a long time, but I didn't know who else to call."

He reached out, and she leaned into his embrace, burying her face in the crook of his neck. My jaw dropped. I had never seen my mother do anything like that.

"Shh," he whispered, stroking her hair, "it's going to be okay. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you or Freddie. You know I couldn't."

"I know," she sniffed. "You've always been so protective of us both. Your father would be proud."

"_What?"_ I thought, my mind racing. _"I've never seen this guy before. What does she mean, 'always been so…'? What the chiz?"_

"Yeah," he said with a hint of irony, "my family has been protecting yours since our grandfathers were young." He rested his cheek on top of her head, "but that isn't the reason I watch out for you."

She sighed deeply, "I know, Gregory. I just…I wish you could have known Freddie better." I was totally confused.

"So do I," he said wistfully.

"Why didn't you ever get married and have a family?" mom asked abruptly, raising her head to look at him. "You would have been a great father."

"You know why," he said, pulling away from her. His voice sounded…bitter? He stood and turned from her. "You were the only girl for me. I never understood why you married that fudgebag. I mean, I know why you couldn't marry me, but why him?"

"My father approved of him," she sighed. "He thought it would be a good match." She stood and stepped up behind the stranger. "He thought of you and your family as employees. I'm sorry, Gregory. I should have chosen you, but I wasn't brave enough to disappoint my father. It was the biggest mistake of my life." I saw tears sliding down her cheeks as she spoke.

The stranger hung his head. "Yeah, I guess that's what we were—what we still are—just employees." He turned to face her, "but God help me, Marisa, I still love you." He pulled her to him and kissed her, and she returned it enthusiastically. I felt my eyes burning. I was sure no child was ever supposed to see his mother being kissed like that. My gasp (or whatever sound of horror I made) was audible. They broke apart, and the man whirled to face me, his brown eyes wide.

I was jolted out of my flashback when I heard the words "Samantha Puckett" ring out from the speakers. I cheered for my friend as she approached Principal Franklin. She reached out to take her diploma, and…was that a chicken leg in her hand? I turned around and locked eyes with Carly, who just shrugged and kept on cheering. I turned back to see Sam leaving the stage waving her diploma with one hand while raising the chicken leg to her mouth with the other. I rolled my eyes and chuckled…typical Sam.

I scanned the crowd again. That's when I noticed the men—a handful of them scattered throughout the crowd. Seated three rows behind my mother was Mr. Edwards. The men all appeared to be on high alert, their shoulders rigid and their heads moving slightly as they surveyed their surroundings from behind their dark glasses. They periodically moved their lips, apparently speaking to some unseen comrade. They were all wearing earpieces. They were keeping watch for something—or, more likely, some_one_. I wondered who. I began searching for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. I saw nothing, but I noticed my mother looked nervous.

"Carly Shay," Principal Franklin's voice called out. I immediately turned my eyes toward the stage. She was beautiful. Her dark hair shimmered in the sunlight. It was amazing how she could make even a shapeless black plastic sack look good. I followed her every move with my eyes. She smiled at me as she passed on her way back to her seat. She was radiant. My heart skipped a beat.

I found her with Spencer and Sam after the ceremony. As my mother and I approached them, she ran into my arms and hugged me fiercely. I held her tight and breathed in her scent. I felt her lips on my cheek, and my head spun. An elderly man called her name as he and a middle-aged man drew near. "Groovy Smoothie tonight?" she whispered in my ear. I nodded at her as she pulled back. "I'll text you," she said as she turned and ran to hug her father and grandfather.

As Carly and I sat together sipping smoothies that night, I could tell that she noticed I was distracted. She turned to me with concern on her gorgeous face. "Freddie," she said, touching my arm, "what's wrong?" I didn't know what to tell her. I couldn't make sense of it myself. I stared into her eyes for a moment and decided just to share with her what little I knew. I told her about the strange man who had apparently been an unseen presence on the periphery of my life for years.

"So you don't know who's been calling her or what he wants?" Carly asked, her brow furrowed.

"Not really," I answered, shaking my head. "It has to be that Johnny person who called after her overdose. Remember I told you about overhearing that?" She nodded. "I just don't know anything about him. Mom never would talk to me about it."

"About what?" I jumped as Sam's voice reached my ears. I turned to see her taking a seat across the table from Carly and me. I was hesitant to share this secret with her. I felt the pressure of her scrutiny and shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Uh, n-nothing," I stammered, begging Carly for support with my eyes. She just gave me a half smile. I glanced back at Sam, who had narrowed her eyes at me.

"Yeah, right, Benson," she said. "We promised no secrets. That goes all around." Her voice sounded almost hurt.

I looked at her skeptically. "Why do you care?" I asked.

"Come on," she said with a sigh. "Carly and I have both noticed something's been bothering you lately."

"So what is this," I asked, glancing back and forth between them, "an intervention?" I suddenly felt double-crossed.

"Freddie," Carly said softly, "we're both your friends, and we're worried about you. We want to help." After a few moments' consideration, I reluctantly brought Sam up to speed.

"Dude," Sam said with a smirk. "I thought flossing was the only oral activity your mom got into like that."

Rage suddenly filled me. Why had I thought she would take this seriously? "That tears it, Puckett!" I spat as I rose from my chair. "I knew it was a mistake to tell you anything."

"Okay," she said looking up at me, "I'm sorry. Dude, relax."

"Why do you always have to make a joke out of everything?" I asked angrily.

"I don't know," she said. "That was just so weird. The thought of your mom and that guy…." She cringed as she spoke. I saw Carly do the same in my peripheral vision.

"Well no more jokes, okay," I said as I sat back down. "This is serious chiz."

"Don't worry, Freddie," Carly said, placing her hand on my shoulder, "we're here for you."

"We'll deal with this chiz," Sam added, "just like we have every other time." I nodded and took a deep breath as she asked, "So what did they have to say for themselves when they saw you?"

"Well it was pretty awkward," I began. I saw Carly give a nod and heard a "no doubt" from Sam. "Mom said he was an old friend of hers. They grew up together, blah, blah, dated a while, blah, blah. So anyway, his grandfather started working for my mom's grandfather during the Fencin Bensons thing. Mom said he was like an agent or manager, but from what I overheard, I got the impression he was more like a bodyguard."

The girls both had disbelieving looks on their faces. "I know," I sighed. "Why does a circus performer need a bodyguard, right? And why has their family been quote-unquote 'working' for ours ever since? None of it makes any sense. I can't help wondering why my family would need this 'protection'."

"Maybe your family has more in common with mine than we thought," Sam said, slurping her smoothie.

"I said no more jokes, Sam," I growled.

"I'm not joking," she said, putting her cup down and looking me in the eye.

I turned to Carly. "Well, maybe she has a point," she said. "I mean, it's not likely, but this isn't the first time your mom has kept secrets about your family."

"Yeah," I sighed, "and it's pretty obvious that she's lying to me about Mr. Edwards and his family."

I lay in bed that night contemplating everything I had seen and heard. My mom was obviously hiding something big from me, and it had her scared. I just wished I could get her to tell me the truth. Sleep evaded me as I wondered just how bad the truth really was.


	5. Innocence Lost

**AN: To the anonymous reviewer who asked about Freddie's age...all the characters have the same dates of birth as they do on the show. When I said that the day of Marisa's funeral is the present, I meant the present _relative to the story line_. The story is actually set in the future, when Freddie is 22. I guess that would be about 2017, but that is the present from the characters' perspective in this story. Clear as mud? :)**

**Thanks to all of you who are still reading this story. I apologize for the LONG delay in updating. I kind of lost my inspiration for a while. I think I have it back now, and I'm excited to be working on this story again. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**I love feedback!**

iFind My Father

Chapter 4 Innocence Lost

I woke to the sound of thunder in the distance. I cracked my eyes open just enough to peek at the sky outside my window. The sky was a bright, clear blue. I blinked in confusion as I heard the thunder again. As the fog inside my head cleared, I realized the sound was coming from inside my room—from right beside me. The feel of something warm pressed to my side registered, and I turned my head toward my bed partner. Carly. I closed my eyes and rested my head back on my pillow as I listened to her soft snoring. Wait. Make that not-so-soft snoring. Last night's events slowly came back to me.

**Flashback**

I was studying in my dorm room when a knock sounded at my door. I glanced at the clock, which read 8:42p.m. "Coming," I called out as I rose from my desk, wondering who that could be. I was surprised to see Carly standing there. Hadn't she told me she had a date that night? Then I noticed the wet streaks on her cheeks. I automatically reached for her, and she stepped into my arms. I pulled her inside my room and closed the door. "Carly," I murmured into her hair, "what's wrong?"

"He dumped me!" she wailed into my chest. "Brennan dumped me! I thought he loved me. He said he did! I gave him everything, Freddie," she sobbed. She looked up at me. "Everything," she whispered brokenly.

When the meaning of her words hit me, I wanted to hunt down the man who had hurt her and tear him limb from limb. The only thing that held me back was her trembling grasp on my waist. I stood and held her as she sobbed, my heart breaking for more reasons than I could name.

"Tell me what happened," I whispered when her cries had softened. I led her to an oversized beanbag chair I kept in the corner and sat down with her. She leaned into me, and I wrapped my arms around her as she drew an unsteady breath.

"I thought everything was going great," she began. "You know we've been dating about four months now." I nodded, and she went on, "I knew he wanted to get physical for a while, but he never pressured me or anything. Then he told me he loved me just before Christmas. We talked a lot over break, and when we came back, it was like we hadn't been apart at all. He told me he loved me again, and I believed him. We started getting more physical, and then last week I finally slept with him."

I gritted my teeth as the thought of Carly sleeping with another guy tore me up inside. "Since then, he hasn't been talking to me much," she sniffed. "I called him today to see if he wanted to do something Saturday, and he told me he was going to spend the weekend sequestered in his room studying. I decided I'd go there tonight and surprise him with takeout. When I got there, he had a girl with him. They obviously were _not_ studying. That's when he told me he wanted to break up. He said it just wasn't working for him anymore, and he thought we should just call it quits and move on. I threw the box of cashew chicken in his face and left. Next thing I knew, I was pounding on your door." She raised her head to look at me. Her makeup ran in thick black streaks from her eyes down her cheeks. "I hope that's okay," she said shakily.

"Of course it is," I said, brushing her hair back from her face. "You know you can always come to me."

"I know," she said, offering me a wobbly smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Freddie."

"Well if I have anything to say about it," I said as she laid her head back on my shoulder, "you'll never have to find out." I heard her chuckle. Apparently she didn't realize I wasn't joking.

She sighed heavily, her breath hitching. "I just can't believe I let this happen to me," she said weakly.

"It's not your fault, Carly," I whispered to her.

I felt her shrug. "I waited so long. I mean, I just turned twenty-one. Most girls my age have been doing it for years, but I waited. I wanted to save myself for love, you know, not just sleep with some random guy. I wanted to lose my virginity to someone who loved me. I thought he did, but he lied to me. He was just using me, and he dumped me once he got what he wanted. All my waiting for love was wasted."

I wanted to scream in frustration. I wanted to cry out in agony. Did she not realize that I loved her more than anything? Didn't she know that I would have treasured that gift if she had given it to me? I would never have lied to her. I would never have used her and tossed her aside like that. If she wanted love, all she had to do was look at me!

I bit back those words. I knew the last thing she needed was for me to make her feel guilty. Instead, I asked the only other question that came to mind. "So…do you love him?"

I felt her hold her breath for a long moment. "I-I," she stammered, "I thought so, but…."

"But what?" I prompted.

"I don't know," she whimpered. "Right now, I just feel like my heart is breaking."

"Would it have broken if he had left you before you slept with him?"

"No," she whispered. "it would have stung, but I think I would have been okay. Oh, God, Freddie! What was I thinking?"

I hugged her tightly as she cried, trying to soothe her. "Shh," I whispered. "It's not your fault. You thought you were in love with him. He lied to you. You're not to blame for that." I held her until she cried herself out. She started to doze off in my arms. "Carly," I whispered, "do you want me to take you home?"

"No," she murmured, shaking her head, "can I stay with you?"

"Sure," I answered as I stood and scooped her up into my arms effortlessly. She was so tiny and light as a feather. I smiled as I remembered the days when she was taller and stronger than I was and could easily pin me down. That was a long time ago, though. I had been through a growth spurt in late adolescence, topping out at 6'2". My workout routine had also put a lot of muscle on my large frame. I hovered around 195 these days, and it was all lean and solid. She'd never be able to pin me now—not unless I let her.

"You can take my bed," I said as I gently laid her down. I removed her shoes and pulled the covers over her. "My roommate left early for the weekend," I said as I stepped to his side of the room, "so I can crash over here."

"No," she said, reaching one hand out to me, "come lie down with me." I hesitated. "Please?" she said.

I stepped back to my own bed and took her outstretched hand in mine. "Are you sure?" I asked. She looked me in the eye as she nodded. I slipped into bed beside her and wrapped her in my arms. She snuggled against my chest, and we both drifted off to sleep.

**End Flashback**

I opened my eyes when I realized her snoring had stopped. I turned to see her wide dark eyes staring at me. "Hi," she said bashfully.

I smiled at her. "Hi back." I reached up to smooth her hair back. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Yeah," she said through a yawn, "except for the dreams."

"What dreams?" I asked, rolling to my side to face her.

She just shook her head, gazing at some point over my shoulder. "Nothing," she said. "Never mind."

I reached up and stroked her cheek. "Carly," I said softly, "you can tell me. I want to help. Please talk to me."

She met my gaze for a moment before looking away again. "It was just a stupid dream," she said, but I could tell it was really bothering her. I found her hand and held it in mine, waiting for her to go on. "I dreamed I was pregnant. It was his, and he wouldn't accept responsibility for it. He just turned his back on me and the baby." She looked at me with sadness in her eyes. "I felt so scared and alone, Freddie. It was awful."

I kissed her forehead. "You're not alone, Carly," I whispered to her. "I'm here. It was just a dream." Then a thought occurred to me, and I pulled back to look her in the eye. "Carly," I asked hesitantly, "is there a chance you might be pregnant?" I held my breath as I waited for her answer.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "we used protection."

I exhaled slowly. "That's good," I said, relieved, "but even if you were, you know you could come to me. I'm here for you no matter what."

"I know," she said, smiling at me, "and that means the world to me. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," I said. "What are friends for?"

She wrapped her arms around me and snuggled into my chest. It occurred to me that every time we had ended up in bed together, it was preceded by one of us going through some kind of personal hell. I would have given anything to be in that position with her under better circumstances.

"So," I said, pulling myself out of my melancholy, "what do you want for breakfast?"

"Well," she said with a sparkle in her eyes, "we could go to Galini's."

"I won't say no to that," I said, smiling at her. "We can stop by your dorm if you want so you can…." I was interrupted by a loud knock on my door.

"You expecting company?" she said with a sly grin.

I rolled my eyes at her as I got out of bed. I immediately missed the warmth as I padded across the cold tile floor in my bare feet. The knock sounded again just as I reached the door. A blond man in a blue jacket stood there holding an electronic signature pad. The patch on his jacket said "United States Postal Service."

"Fredward Benson?" he asked brusquely. I nodded. "Registered mail. Sign here please." I signed the electronic pad, and he handed me an envelope. "Have a nice day," he said as he turned and headed back down the hall.

I studied the envelope as I closed the door and walked back to the bed. "The Law Offices of Barrister, Pundit, and Scrivener," I mumbled to myself, my brow furrowed. I glanced at Carly when I reached the bed. She was gazing at me with curiosity on her face. I opened the envelope and extracted the letter as I sat on the edge of the bed. I read the letter to myself quickly and tossed it on the desk.

I felt Carly come to kneel behind me. She placed her tiny hands on my shoulders and started to knead them gently. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess," I said, relaxing as her hands worked magic on my muscles. "That letter is from a lawyer in Chicago, a Mr. Barrister. He says he's the executor of the Benson estate. I never even knew there _was_ a Benson estate. Anyway, he says he needs to meet with me before my twenty-first birthday. It's a matter of estate business."

"Your birthday is next week. That's kind of short notice for you to plan a trip to Chicago."

"He says he will come here. I just have to call him to make the appointment."

"Oh," she said, her hands coming to rest on my shoulder blades. "Did he say what this 'estate business' is?"

"No," I answered with a sigh as I stared at the purple and gold Husky design on the UW pennant above my roommate's bed. "He said he's not at liberty to disclose it in the letter. I guess I'll just have to wait."

"Maybe your mom would know," Carly said.

"Maybe," I said, turning toward her. "I'll ask her later, but I don't want to think about it now."

"What do you want to think about?" Carly asked, grinning at me.

"Hmm," I pretended to think, "how about having an awesome day with you? Do you have class today?"

"Nope," she said, her face breaking into a full smile, "no Friday classes this semester."

"Me neither," I said, springing to my feet and pulling her up with me. "So what do you say we go get that pie?"


	6. Author's Note: Timeline

Hi everyone! I've gotten some feedback that the timeline of this story is a bit confusing for some. Here's a timeline I hope will help clarify the sequence of events. I reserve the right to add chapters as needed, but I will put information in each chapter telling you where it falls on the timeline.

Chapter------------------------------Date------------Freddie's Age/Timeframe

1 The First Signs of Trouble--------- 2011------------16/Tenth Grade

2 Surviving the Storm---------------2011------------16/Tenth Grade

3 A Stranger in my House-----------2013------------18/HS Graduation

4 Innocence Lost--------------------2016-------------21/3rd Year College

5 Five WHAT?------------------------2016-------------21/3rd Year College

6 Secrets and Lies-------------------2016-------------21/3rd Year College

7 Breaking Point---------------------2017--------------22/4th Year College

**Prologue **(Marisa's Funeral)------- 2017--------------22/4th Year College **PRESENT DAY**

8 – Epilogue-------------------------2017--------------After the Funeral

We came into the story on the day of Marisa's funeral (Prologue) in 2017. The story is set in 2017, so that is the present from the characters' perspective. Chapters 1 through 7 (maybe more if needed) are Freddie's memories of the significant events leading up to Marisa's funeral, including her death. That's why they are written in the past tense and why there are gaps in time between some chapters. Marisa is alive in Chapters 1 through 4, and she will be alive for a few more chapters. You will know when we reach the point where Marisa dies. I am going to write the scene.

When I have taken you through all the important events leading up to the funeral, then I will pick up the story where the Prologue ended. At that point, we'll be back to present-day events (i.e. 2017), and the writing will switch back to present tense.

Thanks for your patience. I've never written a story with the timeline jumbled up like this one is. Sorry if I haven't explained it well enough. :)


	7. Five WHAT?

**AN: Thanks to all the reviewers. You make me feel all warm and fuzzy. There will be Carly/Freddie moments along the way. We will see their relationship blossom. Never fear. **

**I've already realized that I need to add an extra chapter or two that I hadn't planned. That means the chapter numbers on the timeline I posted will be off, but the titles will stay the same. For example, that timeline says chapter 6 will be called Secrets and Lies. That will actually be chapter 7 or 8 now, but it will still be called Secrets and Lies and will occur at the same point in time as it says on the timeline. **

**R&R!!!  
**

iFind My Father

Chapter 5 Five WHAT?

I sat at a small table by a large window inside the Cheesecake Warehouse. The first few days of February were turning out to be bitterly cold, but sunny and bright. Pedestrians bustled by wrapped in heavy coats and wearing sunglasses fit for a day at the beach. It made for an odd fashion statement. Sunlight glinted off the snow on the ground outside, throwing a blinding glare up into my eyes. I squinted as I anxiously watched the passersby through the window, wondering which one might be Mr. Barrister. I nervously fidgeted with the menu in my hand, pretending to ponder the options but not really seeing any of the words before me.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a text message from Carly. "Had a gr8 time with u this wkend! Thnx 4 being there 4 me! U r the best! :) "

I smiled to myself as I typed a quick reply. "Ur welcome. U can make it up 2 me by letn me take u 2 dinner 2nite. K?" I hit send and watched the screen, waiting for her reply.

"K. What time?" My smile grew wider.

"Prolly bout 7. Call u l8r. Meetn lawyer now." I placed my phone back in my pocket and scanned the restaurant for anyone who looked like a bigwig Chicago lawyer type.

My left knee started to bounce rapidly as my nerves grew more strained, causing the flowing white table cloth to flutter where it brushed my lap. I tried to calm myself, but it was no use. I couldn't imagine what kind of "estate business" this guy needed to see me about. I had considered asking my mother about it like Carly suggested, but I decided I would just wait to see Mr. Barrister. When I had called him Friday afternoon, he had agreed to meet with me on Monday. I figured I could wait three days to hear what he had to say, and, as much as I hated to admit it, part of me really didn't trust my mother to be honest with me about it.

I looked up to see a man who appeared to be in his mid sixties approaching my table. He was tall and lanky with salt-and-pepper hair (a bit more salt than pepper) and sky blue eyes. His clear, even olive skin bore only the faintest lines around his eyes and mouth. He was immaculately dressed in a navy pinstripe suit with a crisp white shirt and navy silk tie, and he carried himself with an air of effortless refinement. I felt pitifully outclassed and underdressed in my khaki cargo pants and button-down shirt. I probably looked like a hobo next to him. He extended his right hand—diamond ring twinkling—as he reached me, and I rose to greet him. "Fredward Benson?" he asked as he grasped my hand and gave it a firm shake.

"That's me," I replied. "You must be Mr. Barrister."

"Indeed," he said with a nod as he took the chair opposite mine and placed his black leather briefcase on the table.

"And you work for my family?"

"In a manner of speaking," he said. "I began working for your great-grandfather when I was just a young man."

"And you're still working for him all these years after his death. Why?"

"Quite simply," he smiled, "because I owe him. I learned almost everything I know about practicing law by working for him. He gave me the opportunity to prove myself and to rise to the top of my field. Without his support, I wouldn't be where I am today—a partner in my own firm, successful and respected. I owe him a debt of gratitude. My continuing loyalty and service are my only means of repaying him."

"So what's this about?" I asked, eager to get to the point.

"Do you mind if we order first?" he asked politely. "It was a long, early flight from O'Hare this morning, and I've had no opportunity to eat."

"Oh," I said, a little embarrassed by my ungracious behavior, "of course. I'm sorry. I've just been a little on edge about this since I got your letter."

"I understand," he said smoothly. "I'll be happy to give you the basics over lunch, and we can do the paperwork after our meal. It shouldn't take too long, but I hope you don't have to be anywhere for the next hour or so."

"No," I assured him, "I don't have class until two o'clock, so we have plenty of time."

"Excellent," he said as he closed his menu. Our waiter approached and took our orders. "I understand you're attending the University of Washington here in Seattle," he said when the waiter left.

"Yeah," I said, nodding, "I'm in my third year."

"And your chosen field of study?"

"I'm in the Digital Arts and Experimental Media program," I said with a smile. I was proud to be one of the few students admitted to the program.

"I see," he said slowly. "And what, precisely, does one do with a degree in that field?"

"It's a research and development field," I said, "working toward creating new and better technologies and methods for everything from special effects, to film and music editing, to video game graphics."

"So you plan to design video games or something along those lines for a living?"

"Well, no," I said as the waiter brought our drinks. "I'm going to invent new technology so that someone else can use it to design video games. Or something along those lines," I said as I picked up my glass of Peppy Cola.

"I see," he said with a nod. I wondered why he cared. I guessed he was just trying to make conversation. I obliged and talked about my field in general for several minutes.

"Actually, what I'm most interested in right now is developing software and support systems for three-dimensional webcasts and video chat," I said as the waiter arrived with our order. I spread my napkin over my lap as he set a huge bowl of salad in front of me. "I'm working on something in that area for my senior thesis next year, and I plan to continue that line of research in my graduate studies."

"So you intend to pursue a graduate degree?" Mr. Barrister asked, plunging his fork and knife into a juicy-looking filet mignon.

"Yeah," I said while loading my fork with veggies, "it will take a while to earn my PhD, but it's what I really want to do. I mean, I could get out in the workplace and start earning a living a lot sooner if I did just design video games or something--and I'd probably earn more, too, but I think I'll be happier in the long run this way." I punctuated my sentence by filling my mouth with salad.

"I don't think you'll need to worry about earning a living," Mr. Barrister said in an almost-laughing tone before he popped a bite of steak into his mouth.

I swallowed my salad. "Why's that?" I asked and lifted my glass to my lips.

"Well," he said, dabbing his lips with his napkin, "that's actually an ideal segue into what I came to talk to you about." I watched him expectantly over the rim of my glass. He acted like he couldn't believe I really didn't know what he was talking about. He cleared his throat and leaned forward to speak to me in hushed tones. "Your trust fund," he said in a way that sounded like, "this isn't ringing any bells?" He added another non-question to clarify, "a little matter of around five million dollars?"

I spewed my mouthful of Peppy Cola all over myself. _"Smooth, Benson!"_ I thought. I hadn't done anything like that since the day I thought I had a date with Sam. If I hadn't been so stunned, I would have been mortified! "What?" I choked out. "Five _WHAT_?!?"

Mr. Barrister was clearly taken aback by my reaction. He leaned as far back in his seat as possible, watching disdainfully as I mopped up my mess. "You honestly had no idea, did you?" he asked, bewildered.

"I told you I didn't," I replied as I futilely wiped at the cola covering my shirt and my side of the table. "How is it possible that I have _five million_ dollars?"

"Your great-grandfather left it to you, of course," he said as though it were the most obvious fact known to man. "He was extremely wealthy, you know." I didn't know, but apparently I was supposed to. "He set up the trust fund for you as soon as your mother announced that she was expecting. Your mother has never mentioned this to you?"

"No," I said, my head spinning, "she never really told me much about him. She only told me about the Fencin' Bensons because she was kind of forced into it when I took an interest in fencing."

"Ah, yes, the circus act," he said with a hint of wry humor. "That was just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. Your great-grandfather was involved in many, er, ventures in his lifetime."

"What kind of 'ventures'?"

"Oh, er, well," he stalled, "different businesses. Real estate, property management, recreation and entertainment. Things like that."

I could tell he was holding back, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to tell me the whole truth. Apparently, his loyalty to my family, or at least to my great-grandfather, was rock solid.

"I see," I said, even though I didn't. "And so this trust fund…?"

"Is yours to do with as you please," he answered nonchalantly, "upon your twenty-first birthday. I believe that is this week, correct?"

He obviously knew _exactly_ when my birthday was. "Yes, on Wednesday," I replied warily.

"Well, then," he said, his attention once again on his steak, "come the day after tomorrow, you will be a very wealthy young man. Congratulations."

"Uhm, thank you," I said for lack of a better response.

"I just have some paperwork I need to complete with you to grant you access to the account."

"_Of course!"_ I thought, remembering the day I had first overheard my mother on the phone with the mysterious Johnny. _"That's what he has been after all this time—why he's been tormenting Mom for the past five years."_

"Mr. Barrister?" I asked hesitantly. He merely raised his eyebrows at me. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he said as he swirled the red wine in his glass.

"What do you know about my father?"

He covered it quickly, but I saw the look that crossed his face. It was a look of dread and distaste. He schooled his features into a placid mask and cleared his throat. "You mean Giovanni Contiello," was all he said. I thought I detected a hint of anger in his voice.

I decided to go out on a limb. "I thought his name was Johnny."

"Yes," he said, nodding, "Giovanni is the Italian form of John."

"So he's Italian?"

"He was born in the U.S., but the Contiello family is an old Italian one," Mr. Barrister explained, "as is your own."

"I never knew I was Italian," I said in disbelief. "Benson is such an un-Italian name, though."

Mr. Barrister chucked. "Perhaps," he said, "but di Benedetto is most definitely Italian. It means 'son of Ben.' Americanizing it was your great-grandfather's idea. He thought the circus troupe would be more successful that way."

"Yeah," I said dryly, "I guess 'The Fencin' di Benedettos' doesn't have quite the same ring to it."

"Indeed," he said, the lines around his eyes deepening slightly with mirth.

"So where is he now?" I asked. "My father, I mean."

Mr. Barrister looked uncomfortable again as he shifted in his chair. "I believe Mr. Contiello currently resides in New Orleans. He has been there for some years."

"What does he do there?"

"Well, er," he stammered, "I really couldn't say. Since he and your mother divorced, I haven't kept up with him."

I sensed that he was being less than honest, but I felt I had hit a wall where my father was concerned. I decided to explore another avenue.

"And what do you know about a Mr. Gregory Edwards?" I asked leaning forward, eager for his answer.

"My grandson?" he asked, blinking rapidly. He obviously hadn't expected that. "How do you know him?"

"He visited my mother a few years ago," I said. I decided not to give him the details of that visit or tell him about his appearance at my high school graduation.

"I see," he said slowly.

"So he's your grandson?"

"Yes," he nodded. "He's my eldest daughter's son. The Edwards family has been serving yours even longer than I have. Thomas Edwards served as a manager of sorts for the circus troupe. He also saw to their security. After the troupe stopped performing and the Benson family started to become wealthier and more powerful, Thomas focused solely on security. His son Amos followed in his footsteps and built a rather impressive personal security force for the Bensons. My daughter Claire married Amos. Gregory is their only child. He is now second in command, so to speak, of security for the Bensons."

"You don't sound too happy about that," I said.

"I had hoped that, if Gregory wanted to go into a family business, he would choose mine," he said, shaking his head sadly. "He would have gotten more respect as a lawyer than a bodyguard. Maybe then he and Marisa…." He stopped short. "Listen to me," he said, "losing myself in what ifs. The perils of old age, I suppose."

"So he and my mom were…?"

"They were sweethearts," he said wistfully. "They might have married, but her father wouldn't allow it. Your great-grandfather was a fair, open-minded man. He would have supported their union if it made them both happy. Unfortunately, your grandfather didn't inherit that trait. He forbade your mother from seeing Gregory and pushed her toward Giovanni. Your grandfather was dazzled by the proud old Contiello name, and by their appearance of wealth and power. He didn't see that Giovanni was a lecherous sot. An honest, hard-working man like Gregory didn't stand a chance."

The bitterness rolled off him in waves. It was tangible. "You must resent me, then," I said as I searched his face. He looked at me curiously. "I'm a walking, talking reminder of what my grandfather did to your grandson."

"No you aren't," he said with a smile that made me feel like I was missing something. "Not at all."

When Mr. Barrister and I completed the paperwork, he gave me instructions on how to access my funds. He closed his briefcase and rose from his seat. I stood to shake his hand, and he did something that shocked me. He hugged me—a full on bear hug. "You take care of yourself, son," he said as he stepped back. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call me." I thought I saw tears in his bright blue eyes as he turned to leave. It must have been a trick of the light.

I stared down at the bundle of papers in my hand and ran my fingertip over the lettering on the shiny new bank card. _"Five million dollars,"_ I thought. _"Ho-ly chiz!"_


	8. Confessions

**AN: Once again, a BIG thank you to all the reviewers. I love reading your comments. This is a chapter that I hadn't planned when I posted the timeline, but it fits in immediately after "Five WHAT?" I hope you enjoy it! R&R! :)**

iFind My Father

Chapter 6 Confessions

I knocked on Carly's door and waited. I was early picking her up, but I couldn't wait to see her. My mind had been spinning ever since my meeting with Mr. Barrister, and I needed someone to talk to. The door opened, and Carly's roommate smiled up at me.

"Hi, Freddie," she said, surprise evident on her face.

"Hey, Gia," I said, waiting to be invited in. "Is Carly here?"

"She'll be back in a minute. She just went down to talk to the R.A. about the guys across the hall."

"They giving you trouble?"

"Just noisy. It wouldn't be so bad if they knew when to call it a night, but heavy metal rattling the walls at 3a.m. is a problem."

"Yeah, I bet," I said, feeling a bit awkward standing there in the hall.

"You're welcome to come in and wait for her," she said, opening the door wider for me to enter. She glanced up at me then smiled bashfully. Gia was a beautiful girl with flawless mocha skin, expressive onyx eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, and a radiant smile. I couldn't figure out why she always acted so shy and self-conscious.

"Thanks," I said, smiling warmly at her as I stepped past her into the room. I knew she had a little crush on me. Truth be told, if my heart didn't already belong to Carly, I might have been interested. It was a moot point, though. I only had eyes for one girl.

We made small talk until Carly came through the door. Maybe it was my imagination or wishful thinking, but I thought I saw her eyes light up when she saw me. "Freddie!" she exclaimed with a bright smile. "You're early."

"Yeah," I said as I pulled her into a hug. "I couldn't wait until seven." I pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Gia cleared her throat softly. "I think that's my cue to leave," she said as she grabbed a big canvas bag with paintbrushes poking out here and there. "I need to put in some studio time anyway."

"I think I made her uncomfortable," I said as the door closed behind Gia, my arms still wrapped snugly around Carly. I gazed down at her and drank in her beauty. She was wearing the light pink Seattle Aquarium t-shirt I had bought her on Friday, and the color brought out the natural blush of her cheeks.

"A little," she agreed. "She kind of likes you, you know."

"Yeah, I know," I sighed, "but I'm taken."

Carly's eyebrows shot up, "Oh? Then what are you doing here holding me like this?"

I grinned at her little joke. She knew she was the only one for me. "Well," I said, "the girl I love doesn't love me back, so I'm here hoping my best friend will comfort me."

She laughed. God, how I loved hearing her laugh! "How do you know she doesn't love you?" she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Well," I said, growing serious, "she knows I love her. I always have. She knows I'm hers for the taking. If she loved me, she would have told me so by now. Don't you think?"

"Well," she said awkwardly, not looking me in the eye, "maybe she thinks you've moved on. I mean, you've dated several girls over the past few years."

My mouth went dry, and my heart started to pound. I dropped the joking, third-person façade. I lifted Carly's chin with one hand so that she would meet my eyes. "I only dated those girls because I couldn't have _you_. Nothing ever happened with any of them because my heart just wasn't in it." Her eyes grew wide as I spoke. "I told you that if you truly wanted to be with me, I'd be psyched about it. I waited a long time for you to make a move, but you never did. How could I _not_ think you didn't want me?"

She wore a pained expression. I watched her struggle to keep her composure. "Freddie," she began, her voice strained, "I was a coward. I was afraid to make a move because I didn't want you to push me away again. I didn't know how long I needed to wait before you'd really believe that I wanted to be with you. I guess I was hoping I'd pick up on some kind of signal that would tell me you were ready. I never got any signal, though." I drew a breath to interrupt her, but she placed her fingers over my lips and went on, "I'm not saying that's your fault. I should've been brave enough just to tell you how I felt."

I felt a tear slide down my cheek. Hearing her sweet voice telling me that I could have had her years ago was like a kick to my gut. "Then the girls started _really_ noticing you," she said, stepping out of my arms and turning her back to me. "I mean, you had always been kind of cute, but you really started to change after the accident. You started working out, and you seemed to get more sure of yourself. I don't know if it was the extra confidence or the fact that you were seriously filling out, or both, but the girls started to flock to you." She turned to face me with moisture in her eyes. "At first, I still held out hope that you wanted me, but then you started paying attention to them. That's when I realized I had missed my chance and you had moved on."

I sat down on the edge of Carly's bed and buried my face in my hands. I felt myself trembling, but I didn't know if I wanted to scream, or cry, or put my fist through the wall. Part of me wanted to pull her to me and kiss her senseless. Another part of me wanted to go storming out that door and slam it off its hinges.

I felt the mattress shift when Carly sat down beside me. I didn't look at her. I _couldn't_ look at her just then. I rested my elbows on my knees and stared straight ahead as she spoke. "The night we found your mom unconscious…you remember me coming to get you from school on the scooter?" I nodded once. She drew in a shaky breath, "For a moment there, I thought you were going to kiss me." I recalled that moment with perfect clarity. I _had_ almost kissed her before I caught myself. "Then you pulled back at the last second. It was like you had come to your senses all of a sudden, or something. I was heartbroken."

I suddenly felt sick. "I thought you were upset or freaked out or something," I said quietly, still not looking at her. "I didn't think you wanted me to kiss you. I mean, the way you turned your back on me, you couldn't even face me right then."

"I had to turn away because if I kept looking at you, I was going to cry."

My head was spinning. "I can hardly believe I'm hearing this," I said, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my fists to control the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I made a conscious effort to calm myself and relax my muscles. "To think that I could've had you years ago," I said as I looked over at my shoulder at her. Her face was a picture of sadness and regret.

I stood and crossed to the opposite side of the room. I turned to face her, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. "All these years," I said shaking my head slowly, "I've loved you—Hell, I've _pined_ for you—and you loved me all along?"

She nodded weakly. "Since the accident for sure," she whispered, "maybe a little before that."

"All that heartache," I said with a forced laugh. "All those girls I _wished_ were you. All those times I watched you with other guys and wished it was me." Anger started to creep into my voice. "It _should_ have been me. I would've been happy with you, and I would've made _you_ happy. I never would have hurt you like they did. You never would've had to run crying to a friend the way you came to me last week."

I saw her tears start to fall, and I tried to stop the words from coming. I knew she knew I was talking about Brennan, and I knew she knew what I was thinking. My tongue had a will of its own, though. "_I_ should have been the one…." I stopped myself when her face crumbled and she started to sob. Finishing that sentence would hurt her even more, so I fought valiantly to leave the words unsaid. I leaned against the wall behind me and started to pound my skull into the plaster, my eyes closed and my jaw clenched. The physical pain gave me something to focus on, a place to pinpoint the agony I was in as I bit back the words I so desperately wanted to say.

"I have to get out of here," I said brusquely as I stepped to the door. I reached for the doorknob without looking at her, but I could hear her sobbing behind me. "I'm sorry about dinner, Carls. Maybe some other time."

I opened the door and stepped through. I paused directly in the doorframe and turned back to her one last time. I drew a deep breath and decided to say it. I knew it would hurt her, but I _needed_ to say it. For me. "It should have been me." She bit her bottom lip as she raised her watery eyes to mine. "It shouldn't have been Brennan, or any other guy for that matter," I said quietly. "It should have been _me_."

I stepped into the hall, closing the door softly behind me. I could hear her muffled cries, and it tore at me. My heart had taken enough punishment, though, so I gritted my teeth and left her.

* * *

Two days later, I sat in my Art History class, trying to pay attention as the professor droned on and on about Dadaism. "_Whatever the chiz that is_," I thought, "_I missed that part. Something about sarcasm and anti-art? Eh, I'll Zaplook it later. Or maybe ask Spencer_." I zoned out a few minutes more. When I finally tuned back in, I was totally lost. The slide caption said "Paul Klee, _Twittering Machine_, 1922." Was this part of the Dada thing? Or had we moved on to something else? I didn't have a clue. I studied the slide for a moment. "_Is that considered fine art?_" I wondered. "_Okay, then,_" I shook my head in wonder. "_I'll never get art!_"

My thoughts wandered back to Carly. I hadn't seen or talked to her since I left her in her dorm room Monday evening. I felt awful about what had happened between us, and I missed her like I would miss the air. I felt like I was suffocating without her. Like my body just wasn't getting what it needed to survive. I knew I couldn't go any longer without her.

When class finally ended, I gathered my things and slung my heavy bag over my shoulder. The crisp February air hit me like a slap to the face when I stepped out of the building. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pressed the power button. My art professor was a Nazi when it came to phones in class. Just turning the ringer off wasn't good enough. She demanded that all phones be completely turned off. The phone powered up and went nuts with incoming texts and emails. I quickly scrolled through the messages until I finally saw the one name I was hoping would be there. Carly.

I clicked on her text. "Hey B-day boy!" it said. "Happy 21! I'm sorry bout the other day. I miss u!"

I smiled to myself and typed a reply. "I'm sorry n I miss u 2! Can I c u 2nite?"

Her answer came quickly. "Yes. I'm done at 4. Call me."

I headed toward my dorm. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it through the next two hours.

* * *

I knocked softly on Carly's door. My heart thumped in my chest as I waited for her to answer. I was eager to see her, but I was nervous, too. She and I had never had a fight like this before, so we had never really had to make up. I wasn't sure how it was going to go.

She opened the door and stepped aside to let me in. I stepped past her silently. There was no sign of Gia. We were alone. I swallowed hard. I heard the door click shut behind me and turned to face her. We stared at each other for a long moment, neither of us knowing how to begin. I drew a breath, but no words came. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Then I took a hesitant half-step toward her, and it was like a dam had broken. She flung her arms around me and clung to me. I hugged her fiercely, burying my face in her hair. I breathed her in, filling my lungs--and my heart--with the much-needed, life-giving substance that was Carly.

"Carly," I whispered.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice trembling.

"So am I," I said, and suddenly my world was right again.

Then she reached up and kissed my lips, ever so softly, and my knees almost buckled.


	9. First Date

**AN: Apologies for the super-long delay in updating. I had a bit of writer's block. You all know what that's like, right? Anyway, this chapter takes place immediately after "Confessions." It's a bit fluffy, but it's Creddie all the way! **

**Many thanks to the reviewers! I love you all!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Miss America or anything affiliated with it.  
**

iFind My Father

Chapter 7 First Date

Carly pulled back and looked up at me with a gentle smile on her face. It took me a moment to find my voice. "I've been waiting six years for that," I whispered hoarsely.

"So have I," she said, her smile growing. We stood wrapped in each other's arms, gazing into each other's eyes. I longed to take it further, but I knew we needed to go slow and do this right. I didn't want to risk messing this up, and I read in her face that she felt the same way. She gave me another quick peck on the lips and said brightly, "Hey, why don't we go do something? I want to get out and have some fun! It _is_ your twenty-first birthday, you know. We should celebrate."

"Okay," I said, grinning like a fool. My heart was so light, I would have agreed to anything—even that bit Sam once proposed when she wanted to suspend me from the ceiling by my ankles and use me for a punching bag. "How would you like to get dressed up and go somewhere nice for dinner?"

"Like where?"

"Let me surprise you," I said. She looked at me dubiously. "Trust me, sweetheart," I murmured in her ear and planted a kiss at her temple. "Then after dinner, what do you say to dancing? You can pick the place."

Her smile was blinding. "That sounds awesome, Freddie!"

"'Kay," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "How long will it take you to get ready?"

"Well, I just came from dress rehearsal," she said. "I really need a shower before I'm fit to be seen anywhere."

"Please," I said, rolling my eyes at her, "you know you're always beautiful."

She blushed a pretty shade of pink. I loved the way she always did that when I complimented her. "Thanks," she said, looking up at me through her lashes, "but I don't feel very fresh right now."

"Well okay, stinky," I teased.

She gave me a playful shove and a mock, "Hey! Watch it, mister!"

"Go scrub off the grime," I continued undaunted. "How about I come back here to get you around seven? Will that give you enough time?"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at me, but they were sparkling with mirth. "Yeah, I think I can be presentable in an hour and a half."

"Then it's a date," I said with a smirk that morphed into a genuine smile. I leaned down and placed a long, tender kiss on her lips. "I'll see you then," I said, caressing her cheek before stepping through the door.

* * *

I crossed the lobby of Carly's dorm and pressed the elevator button. I couldn't believe that I was about to go on my first official date with the girl I've been dreaming about since sixth grade. I checked my reflection in a nearby mirror and gave my breath the old huff-and-sniff test in the palm of my hand. I popped a mint into my mouth just to be on the safe side and tousled my hair one more time. My blood red tie hung loose enough around my neck for the top two buttons on my collar to remain undone. The silk charcoal shirt I wore hung untucked over my black jeans. It fit snugly enough to show off my muscle tone, but not so tight as to be cheesy. I was going for that deliberately unkempt look. You know the one. The one that says, "I'm not even trying to look good," when in reality you have to try really hard to look like you're not trying.

I was brushing some lint off the sleeve of my black sport coat when I heard the elevator ding. I looked up and was surprised to see Carly standing inside. She took my breath away. Her luscious raven hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders. Her eyes were smoky and seductive. They shimmered like there was magic in the air around them. Her thick, dark lashes beckoned to me, drawing me into her eyes—those deep, dark pools I could happily drown in. Her dark features perfectly contrasted with her flawless alabaster skin and her glossy, yet natural, succulent lips. She was wearing a garnet overcoat that covered her body to mid calf, but it was nicely cut and showed off her curves.

"Hey," she smiled shyly at me as she stepped out of the elevator, moving gracefully despite the impossibly high silver heels she wore. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on my cheek.

"H-hey," I choked, my voice failing me. My heart was pounding. My mouth was dry. I could feel myself starting to sweat despite the cool temperature of the lobby. I was glad I had taken off my overcoat as I entered the building. _"I guess this is what they mean by 'as nervous as a whore in church'."_ I thought as I tried to remember how to breathe. "I was coming up to get you."

"The noise across the hall was getting out of control," she shrugged, "so I decided to come and wait down here." She took a half step back from me, her eyes doing a slow, full sweep of my body from head to toe and back up again. Judging from the appreciative look on her face, she liked what she saw. I started to feel a little more confident. "You wore the shoes I helped you pick out," she said happily. My confidence wavered a bit as I wondered if that was what she seemed to like so much when she was looking me over. "I didn't think you liked them."

"It's not that I don't like them," I said with a lopsided shrug, looking down at the strange square toes of the black leather boots I wore. To be honest, the only reason I had bought them was because she had said she liked them and thought they would look good on me. "It's just that they really don't go with the things I usually wear." I glanced back up at her, and she was clearly amused. "But tonight's a 'dress up' occasion, so…," I cleared my throat to hide my embarrassment. "You look beautiful, by the way.

"How do you know?" she asked teasingly. "You haven't even seen my dress."

"Doesn't matter," I said, shaking my head. "What I've seen so far is stunning."

Her teasing smile turned genuine as her cheeks turned that familiar shade of pink. "Thank you, Freddie," she said softly.

I felt her eyes on me as I put on my overcoat. "Shall we?" I said gallantly, offering her my arm. She said nothing as she took my arm and we walked out of the lobby to the waiting car, but the smile she wore and the way she hugged my arm told me all I needed to know.

* * *

We pulled up to a looming skyscraper, one of the tallest in Seattle, and a valet opened my door. I stepped out of the car and held out my hand for Carly. She took my hand and let me help her out of the car, all the while gazing in wonder at the towering building. "Freddie, where are we?" she asked.

"You'll see," I said before leaning down to give Lionel, our driver, some instructions.

"I can't believe you hired a car and driver for the night," Carly said as the valet shut the door and Lionel pulled away from the curb.

"Well, why not?" I said nonchalantly. "This way, we don't have to think about driving home." Another valet opened the large plate glass door for us, and I escorted Carly across the lobby to the elevator, our heels sounding noisily on the white marble floor.

"Are you planning to get drunk or something?" she asked, her eyebrows nearly touching her hairline.

"Not necessarily," I said as we stepped into the elevator.

"What floor?" inquired the elevator operator.

"Top floor, please," I replied then turned back to Carly, "but it _is_ my twenty-first birthday, so I may have a drink. Besides, with a driver, we can go anywhere we want and not have to worry about fighting traffic or getting lost."

"Oh," she said, "well in that case, I may join you for that drink."

"Ladies first," I said, gesturing for Carly to go ahead of me when the elevator doors opened on the top floor. I passed a tip to the operator and resumed my place at her side. She took my arm, and I led her to a set of large cherry double doors.

Carly gasped when she read the understated brass plaque by the door. "The Moonlight Room?" She turned wide eyes to me. "Oh, Freddie!"

"I know you've always wanted to come here," I said, smiling down at her. "I told you to trust me," I said in a stage whisper as I held the door for her.

We checked our coats at the door. I helped Carly out of hers, and it was my turn to gasp when I saw what had been hidden underneath. She obviously heard me because she threw a playful grin over her bare shoulder at me. "Do you like it?" she asked, doing a quick turn. "It was my birthday present from Dad."

"Your father bought you a dress like _that_?" I asked when my tongue finally started working again.

"Well, no," she smiled mischievously. "_I_ bought it with the birthday money he sent." She let out a little nervous laugh. "This is the first time I've worn it, though. I've been saving it for a special occasion."

I swallowed hard as I took in the sight of her. The dress was a smoky silver color, and the light reflected softly on the fabric as she moved. The neckline was daringly low, shaped like the top of a heart, and it plunged downward between her breasts. It would have been indecent on a girl with a fuller bosom, but it was perfect on Carly. The neckline was trimmed in little black beads of some sort that sparkled in the light, and a strap covered in the same beads ran from one side of the bodice, behind her neck, to the other side. The dress had a high waist of the same black beads—I remembered my mother calling that an "empire" waist during our mother-son sewing class—that connected with the beads on the neckline where it plunged in the middle. The skirt flowed soft and loose from the waist, barely skimming her body, to just above her knees. The hem did some kind of puffy thing I had never seen before. I felt a surge of pride and happiness knowing that she thought our date was special enough to wear that dress for me.

I shook my overcoat off quickly, feeling suddenly hot. I handed our coats to the cloakroom attendant and took the ticket stubs she offered me. "Thank you," I said with a polite smile.

"Amanda," she said, smiling and batting her eyes at me flirtatiously.

"Amanda," I nodded, and her smile grew wider. Carly cleared her throat, none to subtly, and took my arm. She practically dragged me to the maitre d'. I gave him my name and turned back to see Carly glaring at me. "What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"That girl was practically drooling," Carly said. Something in her voice sounded almost like jealousy.

"Pfft," I scoffed, "whatever. I don't even care. I'm here with you."

"Good answer," Carly said. She wore a self-satisfied smile as she turned to follow the maitre d' to our table. I followed, unable to take my eyes off her. The dress she wore offered a fantastic view. It was completely backless, that same black-bead trim making a deep "V" from just under her arms to the small of her back. I watched her every move—the sway of her hips, the line of her back. I was entranced.

We took our seats at a table by a wall of glass overlooking Puget Sound. The maitre d' held Carly's chair for her, and I watched her as she took in her surroundings. "The view from here is incredible," she said.

"It sure is," I replied, but I wasn't looking through the glass.

She turned her eyes up to the ceiling and let out another gasp. "Wow!" she said breathlessly. "The stars are so bright tonight, and look at the moon!"

I reluctantly tore my eyes from her to glance upward. The ceiling of the Moonlight Room was comprised of dozens of panes of glass, as were the exterior walls. Being here was like dining on a cloud, surrounded by glittering stars. It was a clear night, and the stars twinkled like thousands of tiny diamonds against the inky sky. The moon wasn't full, but it was bright and looked close enough to touch. You could see the flaws in its surface. "Yeah, it's beautiful," I said, returning my gaze to her face, "but not nearly as beautiful as you."

"You don't have to keep saying that, you know," she said, busily opening her menu. "I'm already here with you." She glanced up at me with a teasing smile, but it was that kind of teasing smile intended to make you _think_ what was said was only a joke. It was the kind of teasing smile that masks something real underneath.

"Carly," I said, reaching across the table to take her hand. "Do you remember the first day we met?"

"Yeah," she said with confusion on her face.

"You know I fell for you that day. Remember how I told you that you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and that I never had and never would love anyone else?"

"Yeah, I remember," she said, squeezing my hand.

"You shot me down," I said, holding up my other hand when she started to speak. "Wait. Let me finish. You shot me down that day, and lots of times after that, but I kept on telling you how beautiful you are and how much I love you time after time."

"I know, Freddie," she said, "and I…."

"Still not finished," I said gently, cutting her off. "What if you hadn't rejected me that first day? What if you had said yes? What if we'd been together all these years? What would be different?" I looked at her expectantly, but she just shrugged and shook her head mutely.

"Absolutely nothing," I whispered, squeezing her hand. "Not. One. Single. Thing. Those words I said to you that first day are the truth. Always have been. Always will be." Her eyes started to shine with unshed tears. "When I tell you that you're beautiful or that I love you, it isn't to get something from you. I say it simply because it's true, and I want to be sure you know it."

"Freddie," she said, her voice strained, as she wiped away a tear. "I…I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," I replied, reaching up to wipe another tear. "Don't cry, Carly. I'd rather see you smile. Please, for me?" I did my best imitation of the face she always made when she used that line on me, and she couldn't help but smile. "That's better," I said happily, as my stomach gave a loud rumble. We both laughed at that. "So what do you want to eat?"

"I'm not sure," she said, scanning her menu. "This place is really expensive, Freddie."

"Don't worry," I said, studying my menu. "I've got it covered."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me," I said, giving her a lopsided grin. "Now what looks good?"

"You do," she said, then blushed and quickly hid behind her menu. Apparently she didn't mean to say that out loud.

I felt my grin spread, but I managed to tame it down to a playful smirk. "Oh, I do, huh?" I said in a tone that matched my expression. She didn't answer. She just peeked at me over her menu and blushed again.

When we had placed our order, Carly brought my attention back to the mystery that had been unfolding in my life. "So what did that lawyer want to talk to you about?" she asked.

"Oh, that," I said with a deep breath. "I was going to talk to you about that on Monday before things went sideways." Her expression grew remorseful, and I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Anyway, my great-grandfather left me something, and Mr. Barrister needed to do the paperwork so I could have it."

"Oh," she said, her brows drawing together, "but your great-grandfather has been dead for years. If he left you something in his will, why are they just now giving it to you?"

"Uhm, well," I stalled. I wasn't sure just how to tell her. I didn't understand why, but some part of me was hesitant to tell her the whole thing. Maybe it was because, now that I had a real chance with her, I wanted our relationship to grow naturally. I knew Carly wasn't a materialistic person, and she would never use me, but I was still scared. I wanted Carly's love for me to be real. I wanted her to love me for me. I decided to take a roundabout approach.

"Listen, Carly," I said seriously, "I learned some things about my family from Mr. Barrister, and…well…some of it is…not so nice." I paused as the waiter brought our meal. When he had gone, I reached my hand out again and waited for her to take it. She placed her hand in mine and held it firmly.

"It doesn't matter, Freddie," she said determinedly.

With my free hand, I picked up my glass and stared into the dark red wine our waiter had recommended. I smelled its strong aroma as I brought it to my lips and took a sip. It tasted nothing like the grape juice it had once been. There was no sweetness to it, and it burned my throat all the way down. At least the coughing and sputtering gave me a moment to think.

"Freddie," Carly said a bit more forcefully this time, "look at me." I raised my eyes to hers. "It. Doesn't. Matter."

I smiled, somewhat relieved. "I needed to hear that. I just don't want any of this to affect you and me. I want you to fall in love with me, and I don't want anything else to influence that."

One corner of her mouth turned up as she slowly shook her head at me. "You just don't get it, do you?" she asked with a hint of wry humor, holding my gaze. "I'm _already_ in love with you, Freddie! The only thing that has influenced that is _you_—how amazing and wonderful you are."

"Okay," I said, giving her hand one final squeeze before releasing it and picking up my silverware. "Here's what I know so far."

We ate our meal slowly as I filled Carly in on everything that had happened with Mr. Barrister. I told her about my family history first, leaving the part about the trust fund until the end. Her expression grew sorrowful as I told her about my mom and Mr. Edwards. "How awful!" she said with pity in her voice. "Your poor mom—and Mr. Edwards, too! How could her own father do that to her? It's no wonder she doesn't have much contact with him."

"I know," I said, feeling anger rise in my chest at the thought of my mother being unhappy for so many years. "I barely know him, but now I hate him for what he did to her."

"Well," Carly said, "at least one good thing came of it." I looked at her questioningly. "You!" she smiled. "If your mom hadn't married Johnny, I wouldn't have you."

I smiled back at her, wondering how she always managed to say or do just the right thing to make me feel better. I continued my story. When I told Carly about the trust fund, she immediately put the pieces together and arrived at the same conclusion I had.

"That rotten fudgebag!" she fumed. I was taken aback. Carly hardly ever used language like that. "He's been tormenting your mom all these years over this? It must be a pretty good amount for him to be that obsessed over it."

"Well," I said, still holding back for some reason, "it's enough to get me through grad school and help me get my career off the ground." That wasn't a lie. Not exactly. The fund was definitely enough to do that. I just didn't mention that it was enough to do a whole lot more as well.

"That's good," she nodded. "At least you don't have to worry about supporting yourself for a while. What are you going to do about your father, though?"

"I'm not sure," I sighed. "I still have a lot of questions. I guess I should talk to my mom about it. Now that I actually know something, thanks to Mr. Barrister, maybe she'll finally tell me the truth."

* * *

"Where to, sir?" Lionel inquired when Carly and I returned to the car.

I turned to Carly. "Where do you want to go, beautiful?"

"Well," she said, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, "I read a review of this new club last week. It sounds really cool, but I don't know where it is."

"What's it called?" Lionel asked. Carly gave him the name of the club, and he just nodded and pulled into traffic.

"See," I said playfully, "I told you a driver would come in handy."

* * *

Carly and I held each other as Lionel drove us home. I draped my arm over her shoulders and pulled her close to me. She snuggled into my side and rested her head on my shoulder. I was tired, and my feet were sore from the dancing, but I was happier than I had ever been.

"Tonight was wonderful, Freddie," she said softly. "I had an amazing time."

"So did I," I murmured, stroking her hair absentmindedly.

"I don't have a birthday present for you, though."

"Tonight was enough," I whispered. "Being with you is all I could ever ask for. Thank you for coming with me."

"Well here's a little something else," she said, placing her hand on my cheek and lifting her face to mine.

Pleasure filled me as our lips met. Her kiss was slow and tender and tasted like love. My heart ached from the sweetness of it. I slowly opened my eyes as she pulled back, and I studied her face carefully. In her expression was written every emotion I had ever hoped to read there—all the ones I had worn every time I looked at her. I felt the smile spreading across my face as I lowered my lips to hers.

Just before our lips met, I was jolted out of my beautiful, hazy dream by the sound of Carly's phone ringing. "That's Sam's ringtone!" she exclaimed digging through her bag frantically. She pulled out her Pearberry and put the call on speaker. "Sam?" she said excitedly.

"Hey, cupcake!" came Sam's voice through the phone. "What's shakin?"

"Well, actually," Carly said, her cheeks flushed, "I'm on a date."

"Oh, sorry," Sam said, and for once she actually _sounded_ sorry. "Didn't mean to interrupt. I'll call back later."

"No!" Carly shouted. "It's okay. We don't mind."

"Nah, it's cool, Carls," Sam said. Then she paused. "Hey, wait a minute," she said as though a thought had just occurred to her. "You're not with that Brennan fudgewad, are you? 'Cause after what you told me when you called last week, I will personally come there and castrate him if he is anywhere near you."

"No, Sam," Carly said, rolling her eyes and laughing, "I'm not with Brennan. I'm done with guys like that."

"Good," Sam said, "then I'll let you get back to it."

"Wait, Sam!" Carly said. "Don't go!"

"I'll call you tomorrow," Sam replied. "Maybe I can get you and Freddork both on the line."

"Freddie's here now," Carly nudged me.

"Hey, Sam," I said.

"Uhh," Sam sounded confused. "Is your date cool with the nub tagging along, Carls?"

"Sam," Carly paused, looking to me. I just nodded for her to go on. "Freddie _is_ my date."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Sorry, Carls," Sam finally said. "I don't think I heard you right. It sounded like you said you're on a date with Freddie."

"I am."

"You're on a date."

"Yeah."

"With Freddie."

"Yes."

"Freddie Benson."

"Yep."

"O…kay," Sam said, drawing the word out for several seconds. "Why?"

"Because I love him," Carly said, smiling at me.

"What did you do, nub?" Sam spat at me. "Hypnotize her?"

"Of course not," I replied.

"Really, Sam," Carly insisted. "I love Freddie."

"Are you sure about that?" Sam said, and the teasing was gone from her voice.

"What do you mean?" Carly asked.

"This isn't about Brennan, is it?"

"No," Carly said, and she sounded sure of her words. "This is about _Freddie_. Listen, I'll explain it all to you the next time you come home. Okay?"

"Okay, sure," Sam answered, sounding somewhat satisfied. "Oh, and Freddie?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You better be good to her, or you'll be next in line after Brennan. If you know what I'm saying."

I couldn't help but chuckle at her protectiveness. "I'm not going to be _good_ to her. I'm going to be _better_. Honestly, Sam, how could you think I'd ever be anything less?"

"Alright then," Sam said with a sigh. She paused for a long moment, and when she spoke again, her voice sounded thoughtful. "Mama's going to have to come to terms with this in her own time, kids. But in the meantime, I hope you're both happy."

"We are," Carly said, speaking for both of us.

"'Kay," Sam said softly. "I guess I'll catch you two later."

"Wait!" Carly and I both shouted.

"What?" came Sam's startled reply.

"What did you want to tell us?" Carly asked. "Did you have news?"

"Oh, right!" Sam said, sounding excited. "I almost forgot, what with this terrible shock and all." We all three laughed. "I won regionals!" Carly gasped. My jaw dropped. "I'm in the running for Miss Washington!"

"Oh my god, Sam!" Carly said brightly. "That's awesome!"

"Yeah," I added enthusiastically, "congratulations!"

"Thanks, guys."

"So if you win Miss Washington, does that mean…?" Carly asked.

"Yep," Sam interrupted. "Then I'll compete for Miss America!"

* * *

I held Carly's hand in mine as we drew closer to her dorm. I watched her play with the hem of her dress with her free hand. She was pulling at the fabric here and there, making it stick up like a miniature mountain range, then smoothing it down again. "Why does it do that?" I heard myself ask.

"Do what?" she said.

"The hem," I said, wondering why I was even asking this question, "why is it puffy like that?"

She giggled at me. "It's called a bubble hem. That's just the way it's made. Why?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Just curious."

"Okay," she said, looking at me like she thought I was losing it. I thought she might be right. "You look tired," she finally said.

"I am," I admitted.

"Well," she said, glancing out the window as we pulled up to the front of her dorm. "You could stay here with me tonight instead of going all the way back to your dorm."

"My dorm is only a five-minute drive from here."

"Let me try again," she said with laughter in her voice. "I'd really like it if you would stay here with me tonight."

I drew in a sharp breath when it finally sank in. "Carly," I said softly, meeting her gaze, "I love you. You know I do. And I want you more than I can say, but we need to take this slow. I don't want to rush anything."

She just smiled sweetly at me for a moment. "I know, Freddie," she finally said. "I wasn't inviting you up for _that_." Part of me was disappointed at that. "I just want you to stay with me because…well…. I'd like to wake up beside you tomorrow without having to face a major crisis to get there. You know?"

I pulled her to me and kissed her. One sweet, soft kiss. "Yeah," I whispered hoarsely, "I know."

* * *

I peeled the layers of clothing from the top half of my body and laid the garments on Carly's desk chair. I felt suddenly awkward standing there naked from the waist up, wondering whether I should sleep in my jeans or take them off. Carly handed me a pair of big, red basketball shorts. "I sleep in these sometimes," she said. I wondered how she ever kept them on.

"Thanks," I said as she grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom, her bare feet silent on the tile floor. I quickly discarded my jeans and pulled the shorts on. I set the alarm on my phone to wake me in time for class and placed it on the desk. I was sitting on the edge of her bed when she emerged from the bathroom. "By the way, where's Gia?" I asked.

"She went on a class trip to New York," Carly said as she crossed the room. I was relieved that we would have the room to ourselves. Carly sat beside me on the bed. She had brushed her hair out, and the loose, glossy curls had turned into a sea of wild waves. Her face was free of makeup, and she suddenly looked like the young girl I fell in love with all those years ago. "You're so beautiful," I whispered to her.

"So are you," she said, but her words got lost in a huge yawn. Her yawn triggered one of my own, and we both chuckled.

I lay on my side with my back to the wall and reached for her. She lay down beside me, resting her head on my arm and wrapping her arm around my waist. "Goodnight, Carly," I said, kissing her forehead.

"Night, Freddie," she answered, her sleepy voice muffled. "Sleep tight."

"I will if you don't snore," I teased.

"I don't snore!"

"You did last week," I said, smiling down at her horror-stricken face. "Your snoring woke me up that morning."

"Well," she said, clearly groping for an explanation, "you remember I cried a lot that night. That's probably what caused it."

"Yeah," I sighed, pulling her closer and wrapping my arms tighter around her. "I've heard crying like that can mess up your sinuses." I didn't tell her that, when we had fallen asleep together on her couch after my mom's overdose, she had snored that night, too.

* * *

**AN: Okay, so that was a long one! I have mixed feelings about how this chapter turned out, but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway. Reviews are always appreciated!**


	10. Awkward!

**AN: So this chapter falls right in after "First Date." Freddie is now 21 (so is Carly), and it's their third year of college. This was going to be just an intro to the conversation between Freddie and his mom, but it got so long that I decided to go ahead an post it as a separate chapter. I hope you like it! **

**Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing this fic. I love reading your feedback. It keeps me going! I know it is taking me a while to update, but I don't want to force this story. The ideas are developing slowly on this one. So thank you for your patience! **

**Now...on with the story!**

iFind My Father

Chapter 8 Awkward!

I woke to the sound of Carly's "not-snoring" on Saturday morning. I couldn't help but smile. She insisted that she did not snore, and I had decided to let her go on deluding herself.

I stretched languidly and wrapped my arms around her, relishing the memories of the past three days. We had spent every spare moment together. I watched her dress rehearsals (I knew she was going to make a wonderful Aldonza, but the blonde wig would take some getting used to), and she attended my fencing matches. The sound of her cheering for me made victory so much sweeter.

We stole kisses between classes. We played footsy under the table at lunch. We studied and did our homework together (yes, we actually got our work done, but only because we studied in the library—surrounded by people). We had dinner together each night and fell asleep in each other's arms (I was going to miss that when Gia came back from New York!).

Despite getting closer to her every day and spending each night in her bed, we had kept our promise of taking things slow. We hadn't gone past chaste kisses and sweet, innocent caresses. It was driving me mad!

Except for that night in the club. I closed my eyes and relived that night, letting images and sensations flood my memory. Carly in my arms, pressed against me as we danced. The feel of her soft bosom against my chest, separated by only a few thin layers of fabric. Her lips burning a feather-light trail down my neck. The hot, slightly damp skin of her bare back under my fingertips. Her hands roaming my back and chest, exploring the contours of my muscles. Her hips grinding into mine.

I felt my arousal growing, and fought the urge to rub myself against her. I gritted my teeth and took several slow, deep breaths. I rolled onto my back so she wouldn't feel the evidence of my excitement.

She felt me move away from her, though. Her breathing changed, and she started to wake. "Freddie?" she mumbled sleepily.

"It's okay, baby," I said in a strained whisper. "I'm here. Go back to sleep."

"Mmmm," she groaned in her sleep, rolling over and resting her head on my bare chest. She wrapped her arm around my waist and snuggled closer to me. I wrapped one arm around her and rested my head on my other arm.

"_Okay,"_ I thought, _"this is doable. I just have to calm down, and…."_ Then she did something I wasn't expecting. She drew her knee up and threw her leg over me, her thigh rubbing against the still very aroused part of my body. I hissed as pleasure shot through me.

I felt her body go rigid, and mine did the same. Neither of us breathed. We lay frozen like that for what seemed like hours, but it could only have been a second or two. I slowly lifted my head and looked down at her. Her wide doe eyes met mine. "Freddie?" she whispered.

"Carly, I," I said shakily, "I'm sorry. It's just that I…I…," I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. _"I was fantasizing about dry humping you?"_ That was no good. _"Forget taking it slow. I'm going to lose my mind if I don't have you right now?"_ Nope, not that either. "I can't help it," I said lamely.

"It's okay," she said with a nervous smile. "I understand. Guys wake up like that a lot. It's natural. No big deal."

"Yeah," I answered gruffly. No way was I going to tell her that I, in fact, did _not_ wake up like that. Or that I had only gotten that way after deliberately fantasizing about her. Nope. She did _not_ need to know that I was perving on her while she slept. Nuh-uh!

She started to disentangle herself from me, and I bit back a groan as her thigh brushed against me again. "Sorry," she muttered then rose from the bed. I watched her cross to the bathroom and shut the door.

By the time the bathroom door opened again, I had managed to calm myself down. I pulled some clothes and my toothbrush out of the duffel bag I had brought with me. "My turn," I said brightly as I stepped toward the bathroom door. I kissed her forehead before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind me.

When I reemerged, clean and dressed, she was sitting at her desk with her laptop open. She had dressed in dark jeans and a red hoodie. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. She wore a pair of socks that looked like something Spencer would wear, and she had neglected to put her shoes on.

I sat on the edge of her bed and started putting on my black converse sneakers. "So what do you want to do today?" I asked her.

"I don't know," she said, closing her laptop and turning to face me. "I was thinking about going to see Spencer. What about you?"

"Well," I said as I finished tying my left shoe and reached for the right one, "I thought I might go see my mom. I really do need to talk to her. We could ride to Bushwell together. I'd like to see Spence, too."

"Sounds good," she said as she rummaged under her bed for her shoes. "Have you seen my red sneakers?"

"I put them in your closet after I tripped over them last night," I answered, glancing up at her. She wore a sheepish grin as she reached for the closet door.

* * *

By the time Carly and I got to Bushwell, it was ten o'clock. We took the main elevator to the eighth floor and walked hand-in-hand through the hallway. As we neared our apartments, we heard voices coming from around the corner. I slowed my pace as I recognized Mr. Edwards' voice. I caught Carly's eye and placed a forefinger over my lips. She nodded her understanding.

"I promise, Marisa," Mr. Edwards' voice sounded soft and soothing. "I'll take care of this. My men know where he is, and I'm going there to deal with him personally. He won't bother you or Freddie anymore. I'll make sure of it."

"Just be careful, Gregory," my mother's voice answered. "You know how dangerous he is. He probably has men all over the city. You won't be safe."

"My men are there, too," he said. "I'm not going into this alone."

"When do you leave?"

"I'm flying out tomorrow morning at eleven. I have a stop at Dallas-Fort Worth, and I'll land in New Orleans around eight o'clock Central time. I'll call you when I land."

"What if he runs?"

"He's wanted for drug trafficking in Texas and Arkansas. I've alerted the state police in both states. They're patrolling those borders on the lookout for him. I have my men watching for him in Mississippi."

I pulled Carly behind me as I pressed myself against the wall and peeked around the corner. Mr. Edwards was standing just outside our front door. He was wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt that hung loose over his pants. An emerald green tie was draped over his neck, one end hanging down either side of his chest. He held a black suit coat in his left hand. His hair was ruffled, and I noticed the top three buttons of his shirt were undone. _"What is he doing here dressed like that at ten o'clock on a Saturday?"_ I wondered.

Then I saw my mother appear on the threshold. She was wearing a robe I had never seen before. It wasn't her familiar mint green terrycloth bathrobe. It was a flaming red silky-looking thing with black lace trim. My jaw dropped. I had never known my mother to wear anything so revealing. It didn't even reach her knees! I didn't even want to admit to myself what kind of hair she had. My mother did _not_ have sex hair! No, no, no!

I glanced back at Carly, who stood silent behind me. I must have had a what-the-_HELL_ look on my face because she leaned forward to peer around me, curiosity all over her features. I looked back just in time to see my mother stepping into Mr. Edwards' arms.

"Just promise me you'll come back," she said, her voice shaky. "I don't know what I'll do if anything happens to you." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Carly and I looked at each other, both mouthing the words, "OH MY GOD!" Then we made the mistake of looking back at them. It was like a train wreck. We really didn't want to see it, but we couldn't look away. Mr. Edwards' hands slid down my mother's back, lower and lower, until they weren't on her back at all. Then he squeezed.

Carly's gasp reverberated off the walls. My mother and Mr. Edwards sprang apart, facing us with wide eyes. Carly and I stepped out from our hiding place behind the wall, and awkwardness ensued.

"Freddie! Carly!" my mother said as she tugged at the hem of her robe with one hand and tried to smooth her hair with the other. "What are you two doing here?"

"I…we…uh," I stammered.

"Spencer!" Carly shouted. "Visit Spencer…I'm just gonna…."

"Y-yeah," I stuttered, "we were gonna…and I w-wanted to talk to y-you…but…."

Carly turned toward her apartment door and began digging through her bag for her key. "Spencer!" she shouted, pounding on the door. "Open up!" She attacked her bag again, searching frantically for the key. She gave up on finding the key and pounded the door with both fists. "SPEENN…CEERRR!" she shouted.

The door opened, and Spencer looked down at his sister. "Carly what's…," he trailed off as he glanced up, taking in the sight of my mom and Mr. Edwards. He made one of those faces that only Spencer can make. "Uhh…morning everyone," he said uncomfortably.

Carly shoved him aside and stepped into the apartment. I tried to follow her, but the door slammed in my face. I whirled around, my back pressed to Carly and Spencer's door, and faced my mom with wide eyes.

Mr. Edwards cleared his throat awkwardly. "I think I should go, Marisa," he said. He turned to face me, and I noticed that those three buttons on his shirt weren't just undone. They were missing. I could see the pieces of thread dangling from the fabric where the buttons had once been sewn on.

"_Ohhh…mygodohmygodohmygod,"_ I thought as my mind tried hard to reject the image of those buttons popping off and flying across the room.

"Freddie," he nodded at me as he stepped past me and made his way down the hall. I stared at his back until he was out of sight. I was trying to avoid looking at my mom in that slinky red thing again. I balled my fist at my side and pounded on the door behind me.

"Freddie," my mom began, "why don't you have a seat on the couch while I get dressed? Then we can talk."

It took me a second to make my mouth work. "Uh, I think I'll wait with Carly and Spencer," I said as I pounded on the door again. The door opened behind me, and I felt a hand grab the back of my collar and jerk me into the apartment. I slammed the door quickly and pressed my back to it, happy to be on the inside this time. Carly stood facing me with horror on her face.

"OH MY GOD!" we both shrieked.

I really wasn't looking forward to this conversation with my mother!


	11. Secrets and Lies

**AN: So here it is...the long awaited next chapter of iFind My Father. I apologize for taking so long. I have no excuse. I'm just a bum! lol **

**Anyway, I hope you like this one. Many thanks to all the faithful readers and reviewers! Your feedback is my candy! **

**Please R&R!**

iFind My Father

Chapter 9 Secrets and Lies

I swallowed nervously as I stepped into my mother's living room. I couldn't refer to it as _my_ living room just then. It felt like I didn't belong there anymore—not after what I had witnessed in the hallway. I knew a lot had changed in this apartment since I had been away at college (even if that was just across town).

She smiled awkwardly at me as she took a seat on the couch (now fully dressed, thank God!) and motioned for me to join her. I couldn't quite meet her eyes as I sat down beside her. Instead, I clasped my hands together, resting my elbows on my knees, and stared at the sage green paint on the wall.

There were so many questions running through my mind at that moment, but I couldn't seem to put any of them into words. I didn't even know where to start. I still had the list of questions I'd been preparing since my meeting with Mr. Barrister (since before that, actually), but that train had been seriously derailed.

I wanted to ask her what the chiz that scene in the hallway was about, but I _knew_ what it was about and really didn't want to hear her say it out loud. I wanted to know what was going on between her and Mr. Edwards, but I already knew the answer to that, too. It disturbed me. It disturbed me deeply.

I cleared my throat, hoping I could dislodge some words. All that came out was, "So..."

"Freddie," my mother said softly, "about what you saw earlier…."

"_Here it comes,"_ I thought. _"The straw to break the camel's back. The thing that will finally put me into therapy."_

"You see," she continued, "when two people feel a certain way about each other—the way Gregory and I do—there's a strong desire to express that feeling in a physical way."

I couldn't believe my ears. Was she seriously trying to have the sex talk with me now? I couldn't handle that. "Mom!" I shouted, turning my horrified face to her. "Please do not go there. We had this talk when I was twelve, remember?" The memory of that conversation still made me blush. Especially the part when she had brought out the anatomically correct dolls and the plastic reproductive system models from the hospital. _"Oh, God,"_ I thought. _"Please tell me she doesn't still have the plastic uterus!" _

"Well, Freddie," she said with a hint of irritation in her voice, "I don't know what you want me to say."

I sighed. "I just want to know what's going on between you and Mr. Edwards," I said, then added quickly, "_emotionally_." She stared at her hands for a long moment. "Are you in love with him?" I asked timidly.

"Yes," she whispered.

"How long?" I wasn't even sure whether I meant how long they had been sleeping together or how long she had been in love with him. I figured I'd leave it open and see what she gave me.

"Well," she sighed, "you remember the day you met him—when you came home and found us at the kitchen table?" I nodded. "That was the first time I had seen him in years—since you were about fourteen, I think. We had talked briefly on the phone a few times, but that was all."

She paused, and for a moment I thought that was all she would tell me. Then she drew a long breath. "After that, I started meeting him for coffee every couple of weeks. Just to talk, you know. Then when you started college and moved into the dorms, I started seeing him more often. I was so lonely without you here, so I invited him over for dinner one night. Before either of us realized it, having dinner and spending the evening together had become a regular thing for us.

"When you came home for the summer, I missed seeing him so much. I was thrilled to have you home, of course, but I still felt like something was missing. I took every opportunity to see him. Whenever you were out with Carly and Sam, I was with Gregory. I realized that I hadn't been spending all that time with him just because I was lonely without you. It may have started out that way, but it had evolved into something more.

"So when you went back to school that fall, I called him and asked him to come over for the evening. I told him how I had missed him over the summer and how, even with you home, I still needed him. That was the first time he stayed the night here, and we…well, you know."

I took a moment to let it all sink in. "So you've been _sleeping_ with him for a year and a half, and you never saw fit to tell me that the two of you were…involved?"

"Well, I didn't want things to be awkward," she began.

"And what was that fiasco in the hall this morning if not awkward?" I half-shouted, my eyebrows climbing toward my hairline. "At least if you had told me, I could've been prepared for something like that. Maybe if I had known he spends the night here, I could've found a way to avoid that altogether."

"I wasn't sure how you would feel about it, sweetheart," she said. Her eyes pleaded with me to understand.

I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders. "Mom," I said on a sigh, "I would have been glad to know that you were in love. I want you to be happy. All these years, all you've had was me. I know you love me, but you deserved more. You deserved to have a man by your side who would love you and take care of you and all that. Mr. Edwards seems like a decent man, and he obviously cares a lot about you. And he's not Lewbert, thank God." I rolled my eyes at that. "Maybe he could've been the man for you all along."

"Freddie," she interrupted. "Gregory and I were never…that is…until recently…."

"Mom," I said, exasperated, "don't lie to me." She wore a shocked expression. "I know that you and he were involved when you were young. I also know that you probably would have married him if your father hadn't interfered."

Her eyes grew wide. "How did you…?"

"Mr. Barrister," I said. She gasped, her hand flying to her lips. "I met with him on Monday, and he told me a lot of things."

"I should've known he would be the one to handle it," she said, shaking her head slowly.

"I just don't understand why you felt it necessary to keep so many secrets from me," I said, my voice going higher with each word.

"Freddie, I…," her mouth worked, but no more words came out. She hung her head.

"And why did you lie to me about my father all those years?"

Her head snapped up, and her eyes flew to mine. "What did he tell you about your father?"

"That he was a…what were his exact words? Oh, yeah, a 'lecherous sot'." She let out a breath, seeming almost relieved for a moment. "I know you weren't happy with him. That's why you divorced him. What I don't understand is why you never could tell me the truth about him. Why did you have to pretend he was dead all these years? Why couldn't you just tell me he was a drunk and a womanizer?"

"It wasn't just women," she whispered softly. "Yes, he had an appetite for women, certainly, but he was also into gambling and drugs. He was an alcoholic, too. I didn't want to marry him, but my father insisted. He didn't see what Johnny was really like."

"Yeah," I said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Mr. Barrister said your father was too hung up on the Contiello name."

"He was," she nodded.

I sensed there was something she was holding back-something she didn't want me to know. "What aren't you telling me?" I asked softly. She just shook her head and averted her eyes. "Please, Mom! Please tell me! I already know you loved Mr. Edwards. I know you were forced to marry my father. Please, just...," I sighed and silently prayed for her to open up to me.

Tears formed in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks as she spoke. "It gets worse. After we married, Johnny turned abusive. It started out as verbal abuse. He was always yelling at me. Criticizing me. I was never good enough. The house was never clean enough. Nothing I did pleased him."

"_So this is what she didn't want me to know_," I thought, feeling the pieces fall into place. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she went on.

"After a couple of years, the abuse got physical. It could've been much worse, though. I mean, he never broke any bones or pushed me down the stairs or kicked me or anything. It was just a hard slap whenever I said or did something he didn't like, and he sometimes left bruises on my arms where he jerked me around. There was one time he pushed me against a wall and put his hands around my throat. He threatened to kill me that day. I don't even remember what had set him off, but I nearly passed out before he let go of me."

Fury burned in my chest as I listened to her. I stood and paced angrily. The thought of that man hurting my mother that way made me want to hunt him down and kill him. I hated him more than anything. I felt my body tremble with rage, and my fists ached to pound something. My father's face was out of reach, so I settled for the wall. It was a poor substitute. The hole in the wall did nothing to soothe my raging emotions, and the pain in my hand just pissed me off even more.

"Freddie!" my mother shouted, rushing to my side. "What on earth are you doing?" She walked me to the kitchen. "Sit down," she said, directing me to a stool. I sat, cradling my throbbing hand, as she wet a dishtowel and placed several ice cubes in the center. She pressed the makeshift icepack to my burning, bloody knuckles. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I couldn't do it to his face," I answered bluntly. "It makes me so mad that he hurt you like that. I just want to hurt him back. He should never have treated you that way. You deserve so much better!" I was nearly screaming by the time I finished.

"Still," she said softly, "I guess I was lucky. He could've hurt me a lot worse."

"Mom!" I shouted, jumping to my feet. I let the icepack fall to the floor, ice cubes clattering on the tile. I paced the room in irritation. "That wasn't luck, or love, or anything good. He should never have put his hands on you that way. NEVER!"

I stopped pacing and turned to face her. The tears in her eyes tore at me. I sighed and shoved my uninjured hand through my hair. I felt like pulling it out in handfuls. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself and sat back down. "And your own father should've cared enough about you to look past his name and his family. He should've supported you and Mr. Edwards."

"He was trying to do what he thought was best for the family, I think," she said in a small voice.

"He should've put _your_ happiness first," I said, the conviction coming through in my voice, "because that's what fathers do!"

I watched her reaction, not really knowing what I expected to see. She didn't say anything. She just hid her face in her hands. I could see her shoulders shaking with her silent sobs. I stepped up beside her and ran my hand over her back, trying to comfort her. Carly's words came back to me in that moment, and I remembered that without my grandfather's interference, I wouldn't exist. It struck me as odd that mom hadn't mentioned that fact—not once—during this whole conversation. Honestly, it stung a little, but then I gave myself a mental slap. _"This isn't about me,"_ I told myself. _"This is about her!"_ I shrugged it off, putting her oversight down to emotional stress, and focused my attention on her.

"I'm glad you got away from him," I told her earnestly. "What I don't understand, though, is why you never told me anything about him. Why have you let me think he was dead all these years?"

"Because," she said, lifting her watery eyes to me, "I didn't want you to have anything to do with him. I also didn't want you to know what a horrible person he was. I thought it would be better for you if you—and everyone else—believed your father had been a good man who loved us both, and I didn't want anyone to know the sordid details of my past. I didn't want you to have to deal with that stigma."

She reached for a tissue from the box on the counter. She dabbed her eyes then blew her nose. "That's the reason I went back to my maiden name—and why your name is Benson, too. I divorced Johnny a few months before you were born. I put 'Benson' on your birth certificate and didn't name a father. I didn't want him to have any legal claim on you. When we moved here to Seattle, everyone just assumed I was _Mrs._ Benson, and I went along with it for the sake of appearances. Johnny has been threatening to take me to court ever since I left him. He wanted to establish paternity so he would have a legal claim on you, but my grandfather kept him at bay."

"So that's when he started calling you?" I said, thinking back to that first conversation I had overheard. "When your grandfather died?" She looked at me quizzically. "I overheard you talking to him on the phone one day not long after your overdose," I explained. "I heard you mention something about courts and restraining orders."

"Y-yes," she stammered. "My grandfather died about a year before my accident." _("Overdose,"_ I corrected mentally.) "That's when Johnny started calling me," she said. "He was more determined than ever to get to you. Maybe he had been all along, and my grandfather just intimidated him too much. I don't know. At any rate, Johnny started making threats."

"What kind of threats?" I asked.

"He threatened to sue for custody of you," she said, her voice shaking. "He also threatened to come find us and just take you."

"And you put up with that for three years without saying anything?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, I had a restraining order," she argued.

"Mom," I said, "a restraining order is just a piece of paper! It can't protect you—not if the person decides to violate it. I mean, sure, you can call the cops if he comes near you, but by then it's too late!"

"That's why I called Gregory," she said, turning her back to me and retrieving something from the cabinet under the sink. I strained to hear her hurried speech over her shoulder. "I started seeing Johnny's men—men I recognized from when we were married—around here." She pulled a disinfectant wipe from the box in her hand and started frantically wiping the already spotless countertop. "At first, I thought they were just following me. I was nervous, but I tried to cope as best I could. Then one day I saw two of them at your school, and I realized they were closing in on you." Her hand was moving so fast it almost blurred as she scrubbed an imaginary spot. "I panicked and called Gregory right then. He sent three of his men immediately to watch you until he could get here."

She dropped the wipe on the counter and turned, still holding the box in her other hand, to face me. I could see the tracks of countless tears on her face. "I couldn't believe I had let them get so close to you," she sobbed. "I worked so hard to protect you…to keep you safe…and I…," she choked on her words. The box of wipes slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a dull thud, disinfectant solution leaking out to form a tiny puddle around it, as she covered her face with her hands.

My heart broke watching her in so much pain. I wished that she had confided in me before, but I knew that she had only been trying to protect me. I was angry, but my anger wasn't directed at her. I was angry with the men who had caused her so much grief. My father. And hers.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her as she cried, whispering soothing words, comforting nonsense, into her ear. When she finally quieted, I walked her back to the couch and eased her down to the cushions. I sat beside her, still trying to lend comfort.

I waited for her to say something, but she seemed lost in her thoughts. I decided to take the lead. "So," I said softly, "I'm assuming my father wants my money. That's what he's been after all this time, right? The reason he's been threatening you and trying to get to me?"

She nodded mutely. I could tell she was searching for words, so I waited. "I think he has some gambling debts and what not. He thought if he could take you from me then he would get your trust fund. He didn't know that my grandfather set it up so that no one could access it but you, and you had to turn twenty-one first. My grandfather wanted to be absolutely sure that nothing would happen to that money."

"Where did he get all that money, anyway?" I finally asked the question that had been nagging at me since Mr. Barrister first said the words "trust fund" to me. "I mean, how does a circus performer come up with _five million dollars_?"

"He wasn't just a circus performer, Freddie," she answered quietly. "The circus troupe was just the beginning. He did that until he had saved up enough capital to start his business."

"What kind of business?"

"Real estate, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Well, there were other things…."

I waited for her to explain what "other things" meant, but she didn't. My frustration came through in my voice. "What _other_ things, Mom?"

"Just…investments," she answered hesitantly. "Profitable ones."

"Like _what_?"

"A few…hotels…casinos…things like that."

Something told me she was sugar-coating things. I felt the fight drain out of me knowing she would never tell me the whole, unedited truth. I figured I would have to find another source of information. I decided to let it drop for now. "So Mr. Edwards is going to New Orleans to confront my father?"

A pained expression crossed her face. "Yes," she sighed.

"What's he going to do?"

"I honestly don't know, but he said he would take care of things. He promised me that Johnny wouldn't bother us anymore."

"I heard what he said about the state police in Texas and Arkansas," I persisted, "but what if he doesn't go there? What if Mr. Edwards catches him in Mississippi or Louisiana? What is he going to do with him?"

"I don't know, Freddie," she said, her patience seeming to wear thin. "Don't worry, though. Gregory will take care of everything. Just wait and see. In a few days, this will all be over. Johnny won't bother us anymore, and everything will be fine."

She sounded like she really believed happily ever after was just around the corner. I had a sinking feeling, though, that it wasn't going to be that easy.


	12. Celebration

**AN: First of all...this chapter is dedicated to the supreme ruler of awesomeness "Chad Dylan Cooper Fever" who gave me my 100th review on this story. I've never gotten 100 reviews on a story before, so this was really special to me! Thanks CDCF! :)**

**Many thanks to the rest of you who read and review this story. I don't think writing these stories would be worth the effort if not for the feedback. It lets me know that you enjoy my work, and that is the most fulfilling part of this endeavor! So thanks to you. You all rock hard! :)**

**I'm SO sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Carly, Freddie, and Sam just didn't want to cooperate with me this time. I had to threaten to take away Sam's meat. :)**

**This chapter takes place roughly two months after "Secrets and Lies." So we are still in Carly & Freddie's third year of university-mid to late April.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a twisted imagination and an intense love of all things Creddie!  
**

**For those of you who may not know, the play I allude to is called _Man of La Mancha_. (I don't own it!) It is a musical based on _Don Quixote_ by Miguel de Cervantes. In the play, Don Quixote is basically insane. Sorry if that offends anyone. Anyway, he believes he is a knight on a noble quest. Along the way, he meets Aldonza, who is a scullery maid and a prostitute. When he sees her, though, he believes she is the most beautiful lady in the land. He calls her Dulcinea, a name which speaks of sweetness and elegance. Aldonza argues with him and tells him that she cannot be any kind of lady because of her lowly birth and status as a prostitute. He insists that she is his lady and that she is precious to him. He shows her much kindness, and she is touched by it. At the end of the play, Don Quixote has regained his sanity and is on his deathbed. Aldonza comes to see him, begging him to bring back the dream of Dulcinea. She wants to be loved and treasured instead of used and belittled. She started out with no self-worth, but because of Don Quixote's belief in and devotion to her, she learns to respect and believe in herself. She takes on the name Dulcinea. To refer to a person as one's "Dulcinea" speaks of complete love, devotion, and reverence-especially if those feelings are not returned. **

**Here is an excerpt from the play. It is the scene where Don Quixote enters the inn where Aldonza works and sees her for the first time. I don't own this! Music is in _bold italics_.  
**

**DON QUIXOTE **  
** (enters the inn) **  
** Sweet lady... fair virgin... **

** (Don Quixote averts his eyes worshipfully) **  
** I dare not gaze full upon thy countenance **  
** Lest I be blinded by beauty. But I implore **  
** Thee - speak once thy name. **

** ALDONZA **  
** Aldonza. **

** DON QUIXOTE **  
** My lady jests. **

** ALDONZA **  
** Aldonza! **

** DON QUIXOTE **  
** The name of a kitchen-scullion... or perhaps my **  
** lady's serving-maid? **

** ALDONZA **  
** I told you my name! Now get out of the way. **  
** (She clears past him to the table.) **

** DON QUIXOTE **  
** (Smiling, sill keeping his eyes averted) **  
** Did my lady think to put me to a test? **  
** Ah, sweet sovereign of my captive heart. I shall **  
** not fail thee, for I know... **

_** I have dreamed thee too long, **_  
_** Never seen thee or touched thee. **_  
_** But known thee with all of my heart. **_  
_** Half a prayer, half a song, **_  
_** Thou hast always been with me, **_  
_** Though we have been always apart. **_

_** Dulcinea... Dulcinea... **_  
_** I see heaven when I see thee, Dulcinea, **_  
_** And thy name is like a prayer **_  
_** An angel whispers... Dulcinea... Dulcinea! **_

_** If I reach out to thee, **_  
_** Do not tremble and shrink **_  
_** From the touch of my hand on thy hair. **_  
_** Let my fingers but see **_  
_** Thou art warm and alive, **_  
_** And no phantom to fade in the air. **_

_** Dulcinea... Dulcinea... **_  
_** I have sought thee, sung thee, **_  
_** Dreamed thee, Dulcinea! **_

_** Now I've found thee, **_  
_** And the world shall know thy glory, **_  
_** Dulcinea... Dulcinea! **_

** (The scene reverts to the prison where Cervantes **  
** tells of Don Quixote's family and friends who are **  
** worried about his mental state)**

**Okay, so that's enough of this long-winded author's note. Now, on with the story!**

iFind My Father

Chapter 10 Celebration

I sat quietly in the dark. Unmoving. Unblinking. Barely breathing. I watched with rapt attention as Carly took possession of the stage. I had seen her give this performance countless times. I had been to dozens of dress rehearsals, and I had attended every performance since the play opened a month ago. She had been wonderful each time, but tonight—closing night—she was spectacular.

It was like she had saved the best for last. In every prior performance, she had held just a little bit of herself back. Tonight, though, she was totally losing herself in the role. Aldonza came to life like never before as Carly gave her all for this final performance.

The emotion rang out in her voice as she delivered her lines. Goosebumps broke out on my skin, and I heard gasps around me as Carly sang and danced her way through her musical number. Sniffles sounded throughout the audience as Aldonza told Don Quixote that, "Blows and abuse I can take and give back again; Tenderness I cannot bear." And when she begged him on his deathbed to bring her back the glory of Dulcinea, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. The audience leapt to its feet and erupted in wild applause as Carly took her bow, and the happiness shining on her face at that moment warmed me.

* * *

I found her sitting at a dressing table backstage. She had removed her blonde wig, and her own dark hair was pulled tightly back from her face. I sneaked up behind her, reaching around her to hold a small bouquet of red roses in front of her as I pressed my lips to her temple. "You were amazing!" I whispered in her ear.

That pretty blush I loved so much stained her cheeks—I could see it even through the stage makeup—as she smiled at me in the mirror. "Thank you, Freddie!" she beamed as she took the roses and buried her nose in them. I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face as she turned and wrapped her arms around my neck. I heard the roses fall to the floor behind me as I captured her lips with my own. I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground, holding her tight against my chest as I kissed her.

The sound of someone clearing their throat finally reached me, and I reluctantly pulled away from Carly. I gently set her on her feet, our eyes still locked. "That was some show, Cupcake!" came a familiar voice.

"Sam!" Carly and I exclaimed together. Well, actually, Carly's was more like a squeal.

"I didn't expect you to be here," Carly said as she leaped into Sam's outstretched arms.

"Are you kidding?" Sam said as she returned Carly's enthusiastic hug. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world!"

"We thought you would be busy," I said as Carly stepped back to my side and slid an arm around my waist. "You have a lot of responsibility as the new Miss Washington, right?"

"Nah," Sam shrugged, "not right now, at least. The first month or so after the pageant is usually pretty busy, but it's starting to calm down." She gave a mischievous grin. "Besides," she whispered, "Mama calls the shots now!"

A small laugh escaped me. I felt sorry for the fool who tried to make Sam do anything she didn't want to do, responsibilities or no. "Well," I said, smiling at my two best friends, "I say all this calls for a celebration! Why don't you girls let me take you to dinner?"

"You don't have to do that, Freddie," Carly said sweetly.

"It would be my honor, ladies," I said with exaggerated gallantry. "I mean, with royalty on one arm and a starlet on the other…I'll be the envy of every man in Seattle!"

Carly just rolled her eyes and laughed at me, but Sam, of course, had a scathing retort. "Well, normally I wouldn't be caught dead on the arm of a nub," she smirked, "but you _are_ offering me food, so I guess I can make an exception. This time."

"Wise decision, your highness," I mocked her. "So where would you girls like to go? The Cheesecake Warehouse, maybe? Or Olive Grove?"

"How about Bison Wild Wings?" Carly said brightly. "I'm in the mood for something casual."

"I could go for some 'wangs'," Sam said, tucking her thumbs in her armpits and flapping her elbows.

"Great," Carly said as she pulled away from me and reached for a garment bag hanging on a rack beside the dressing table. "Just let me get changed. I'll only be a min…"

"CAAR-LYYY!" came the familiar yell. "Carly, Carly, Caarr-lyyy!" Spencer came running toward us at full speed. We all saw it coming. It was like watching a car swerving into oncoming traffic. You know what's about to happen. You can already see it before it even starts, but you're powerless to stop it. You just have to sit back, hold your breath, and watch. And hope no one gets hurt.

He came bounding around a row of costume racks, barely managing to control his long, lanky limbs. Then his foot caught on a heavy power cable, tripping him. As he fell forward, he grabbed onto the sleeve of a costume, only to pull the entire rack down on top of him. The rack crashed into a stand of plywood backdrops, toppling them like a row of dominos. The last of the backdrops finally crashed against a wall where several thick ropes were tied to levers. One of the levers was dislodged, and the rope went zipping up into the rafters as the heavy lights suspended at the other end came crashing down—right on top of Spencer. Only the costume rack shielded his head from a hot, heavy bulb.

"SPENCER!" Carly yelled, running to the heap where he was buried. Sam and I followed her. Several people had already gathered and were working to lift the lights and costume rack. We finally uncovered him. He was curled up in the fetal position, holding his stomach. "Are you okay?" Carly asked frantically.

"I think I broke my pancreas," he groaned. "Or maybe that's my spleen."

We got him up and walking, and soon he was back to normal. He bent down, rummaging through the pile of costumes on the floor and retrieved a small black velvet box. "This is for you," he said to Carly as he tried to fluff up the crumpled red ribbon. He handed her the box with a sheepish look on his face. She accepted the box with a curious expression. "They were mom's," Spencer said quietly. "They were her favorites. I think she'd want you to have them."

"Oh, Spencer!" Carly gasped as she opened the tiny box, revealing two perfectly matched pearls in antique silver settings. "They're so beautiful! Why haven't I ever seen these before?"

"They've been in the safe deposit box. Dad always said he was going to give them to you someday—when the time was right. He called yesterday and said he wanted me to give them to you tonight. He really wanted to be here."

Carly stepped to the closest mirror and carefully put the delicate earrings in her ears. She studied her reflection and smiled. "They're beautiful. I love them." She turned back to her brother, handing the box to me as she did so. "I love you, Spencer," she said as she reached up to hug him. "Thank you for always being here for me."

"What are big brothers for?" he said as he hugged her back.

"So anyway," Sam said as Carly walked back to her own dressing table, "we're headed out to Bison Wild Wings to celebrate. You're coming, right?"

"Uhm, sure," Spencer replied, "but who's gonna be our designated?" He shifted his eyes between us briefly. "NOT IT!" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

"Don't worry about it," I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. "I got it covered."

Carly stepped out of a small dressing room looking like herself again. "You got what covered?" she asked.

"Transportation," I said, giving her a quick wink. I scooped the roses up from the floor where she had dropped them and placed them in her hands. I pressed a quick kiss to her cheek as I listened to the phone ring.

* * *

The four of us sat around a square table that was piled high with the bony remnants of spicy chicken wings—most of which had been picked clean by Sam. People all around us cheered and jeered at the games on the many different TV screens. We downed several pitchers of beer (Hey we were all of legal age, and Lionel was waiting outside!), and Sam ate a few dozen more wings as the night wore on.

"So, Ssham," Spencer slurred, "how's it feel t'be Miz Wasshin'ton?"

"Feels good," Sam mumbled around a mouthful of chicken. "Mama likes to win!" She swallowed her food and washed it down with a long gulp of the golden beverage. "But really, the best part was beating the shorts off LeAnn."

"LeAnn Carter?" Carly asked. She took a small sip of her beer, wrinkling her nose as she swallowed. Sam nodded with her glass still raised to her lips, chugging down the beer. "But I thought she quit competing after you beat her for Miss Teen Seattle that year."

"Nah," Sam said, slamming her empty glass onto the table. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. (Seriously? There was a pile of napkins right in front of her!) "She just dropped out for a while. Had to regroup, I guess. She wasn't very experienced at losing—at least not until I got back into the circuit." Sam's smirk was downright evil. She refilled her glass, draining the pitcher in the process.

"More beer!" Spencer yelled, jumping up and grabbing the empty pitcher. He staggered up to the bar with it.

"I don't think he needs any more," Carly said, her brow creased with concern.

"Eh, they'll cut him off when they see how drunk he is," Sam said.

"I didn't know he was such a lightweight," I laughed. "He's only had, what, like four glasses?"

"Yeah," Sam laughed, "boy needs to learn how to hold his liquor."

"Looks like you could teach him a thing or two on that subject," I teased.

"Shut it, Benson," Sam replied heatedly. "I am NOT an alcoholic."

"I didn't say you were. It's just that you've had more than any of us, and you seem to be the least affected."

"What? I enjoy the occasional adult beverage. So what?"

"I have to pee," Carly announced, jumping to her feet. Sam and I both stared blankly at her. She didn't leave, though. She stood still, looking at Sam expectantly for a moment.

"Okay," Sam said with a slight lift of her shoulders, "thank you for sharing."

Carly huffed and rolled her eyes at Sam, then leaned down and kissed me. "Be right back," she whispered. She turned, wobbling slightly, and made her way to the restroom. I smiled, laughing to myself as I watched her go.

"So have you slept with her yet?"

It took a minute for what I had just heard to sink in. "What?" I nearly shouted, turning wide eyes to Sam.

"You heard me, nub. Answer the question."

"It's none of your business, Sam!"

"That girl is my best friend," Sam spat, fire blazing in her eyes. "And for a big part of my life, she was my _only_ friend. I will personally remove vital pieces of the anatomy of any man who hurts her. The only reason that Brennan fudgewad isn't singing soprano is because I haven't found him yet. So be mindful of that."

"Look, Sam," I sighed. "It really isn't any of your business, but I know how much you care about Carly. You know how much I love her. I always have. Do you really think I would treat her the way Brennan did?" She looked at me dubiously. "Come on, Sam. Think about it. I've been head over heels for Carly since the sixth grade. I never gave up on her. Not even when I had no reason to hold on to hope. When everyone, including Carly, told me I didn't stand a chance. I still loved her."

"Maybe," Sam said, staring me down, "but loving someone from a distance is a lot different than loving them up close."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that when you love someone from afar, you don't know what they're really like. All you really have is an idea of what they will be like. Once you really get close to them, though, you can see their flaws. The reality may not be as great as you expected it to be."

"Well, that's why we're taking things slow. I figure I'll only get one shot with her, and I don't want to mess it up. So—for your information—no, I haven't slept with her yet."

"How long have you two been dating?"

"Since my birthday. Two months."

"And you haven't even been tempted?"

"Of course I've been tempted," I said with a heavy sigh. "I've wanted her since puberty. But I want her forever, not just for a night. That's why I'm willing to wait as long as it takes to make sure that when we do go there, it's going to last the rest of our lives."

"That's what Mama likes to hear," Sam said with a satisfied smile.

"I'm back!" Carly sang in my ear as she crept up behind me and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Where's Spencer?"

"Still at the bar, I think," I said, scanning the crowd for him.

"I think I see him," Sam said, craning her neck toward the bar. "Yep, he's passed out on a barstool. Don't worry, kiddos. I got this." She slid off her chair and pushed her way through the crowd toward the bar.

"What were you and Sam talking about?" Carly asked as she reclaimed her seat beside me. "You looked all intense."

"Oh, you know," I shrugged, "insults to my manhood. Threats of bodily harm. The usual."

Carly giggled and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. "Don't worry, baby. I won't let her hurt you. I love you." My heart did a somersault in my chest.

"I love you, too, Carly." I kissed her again. "More than you know."

"Break it up, lovebirds," came Sam's voice, sounding slightly strained. Carly's eyes widened and she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. I turned and felt my jaw drop. Sam was standing in front of our table with Spencer thrown over her shoulder. He was out cold. "I need to get this rock star home," she said, her expression somewhere between agitated and amused. "Would you mind calling us a cab?"

"No need," I told her. "Lionel can drive you to Bushwell to drop off Spencer. Then he can take you home."

"What about you two?"

"We're not far from campus," Carly said. "It's a nice night. We can walk."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. Spencer snored. Loudly.

"Yeah, we're good," Carly giggled.

"All right, then," Sam said, "I guess I'll catch you two tomorrow. Call me."

"Goodnight," we called after her as she made her way toward the front door, the crowd parting in awe of the petite girl carrying a man nearly twice her size.

I paid our tab, and Carly and I stepped out into the clear spring night. I smiled down at her, pulling her closer to me and lowering my lips toward hers.

"Wow, Carly," came an unfriendly sneer. "Sure didn't take you long to move on, eh?"

I felt an animalistic growl building up in my chest as I turned to face the fudgebag who dared to insult my girl. Brennan!


End file.
